Alice Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
by there.is.always.a.rainbow
Summary: Alice Potter was looking forward to a hopefully normal year at Hogwarts, normal meaning no life risking adventures. Obviously she was asking too much. Now Alice is trying to understand where Hermione keeps disappearing to, figure out why Professor Lupin is so familiar, and help keep her fugitive godfather's soul intact. The first 3 chptrs are from PoA, then things change... a lot.
1. Chapter 1

Alice Potter was a highly unusual girl in many ways. For one thing, she hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, she really wanted to do her homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And she also happened to be a witch.

It was nearly midnight, and she was lying on her stomach on her cot, the blanket drawn right over her head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the headboard. Alice moved the tip of her eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as she looked for something that would help her write her essay, 'Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless — discuss.'

The quill paused at the top of a likely looking paragraph. Alice pushed her round glasses up the bridge of his nose, moved her flashlight closer to the book, and read:

_Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises._

Alice put her quill between her teeth and reached behind her cot for her inkbottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and very carefully she unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped her quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of her quill on their way for a midnight snack, she'd probably find herself locked in the shed outside for the rest of the summer. While her cupboard was small, at least it was heated. Summer nights were cold, and she knew the Dursleys wouldn't care if she became ill or not.

The Dursley family of Number Four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Alice never enjoyed her summer holidays. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Alice's only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic. Alice's dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys' roof. For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Alice as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of her. To their fury, they had been unsuccessful. These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Alice had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away Alice, and anything she owned in her cupboard (her trunk chained shut), give her enough food and water to survive (mostly) and let her out a few times a day to use the lavatory and do anything else they thought up.

The separation from her spell books had been a real problem for Alice, because her teachers at Hogwarts had given her a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Alice's least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Alice detention for a month. Alice had therefore seized her chance in the first week of the holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out to a company dinner, forgetting to lock her cupboard, Alice had crept into Uncle Vernon's office, picked the lock on his desk drawer, and used the key to take out what books she could hide in the floor and mattress, before returning the key and locking the drawer. As long as she kept the books out of sight, the Dursleys need never know that she was studying magic by night.

Alice was particularly keen to avoid trouble with her aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with her, all because she'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation.

Ron Weasley, who was one of Alice's best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things Alice didn't, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call.

"Vernon Dursley speaking."

Alice, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as she heard Ron's voice answer. "HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I — WANT — TO — TALK — TO — ALICE

— POTTER!"

Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm.

"WHO IS THIS?" he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON — WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field. "I'M — A — FRIEND — OF — ALICE'S — FROM — SCHOOL —"

Uncle Vernon's small eyes swiveled around to Alice, who was rooted to the spot.

"THERE IS NO ALICE POTTER HERE!" he roared, now holding the receiver at arm's length, as though frightened it might explode. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider.

The fight that had followed had been one of the worst yet.

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE — PEOPLE LIKE _YOU_!"

Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Alice with spit. She shuddered at the memory, and lightly felt her still-bandaged ribs.

Ron obviously realized that he'd gotten Alice into trouble, because he hadn't called again.

Alice's other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn't been in touch either. Alice suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Alice's year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts.

So Alice had had no word from any of her wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one. She was especially depressed by this, as she had spent most of last summer recovering from her punishment from the pudding incident. There was just one very small improvement — after swearing that she wouldn't use her to send letters to any of her friends, Alice had been allowed to let her owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time.

Alice finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of her enormous cousin, Dudley. It must be very late, Alice thought. Her eyes were itching with tiredness. Perhaps she'd finish this essay tomorrow night...

She replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillowcase from under her bed; put the flashlight, _A History of Magic_, her essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under

a loose floorboard under her cot. Then she crouched, as close as she could get to standing, stretched as well as she could, , and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on her bedside table.

It was one o'clock in the morning. Alice's stomach gave a funny jolt. She had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour.

Yet another unusual thing about Alice was how little she looked forward to her birthdays. She had never received a birthday card in her life. On the contrary, her Uncle would prepare a special evening out for Petunia, and give Alice her "present". The other Dursleys had completely ignored her last two birthdays, and she had no reason to suppose they would remember this one.

Alice crawled across the tiny cupboard, past Hedwig's large, empty cage, to the open vent. She leaned on the wall, the cooler air pleasant on her face after a long time under the blanket. Hedwig had been absent for two nights now. Alice wasn't worried about her: she'd been gone this long before. But she hoped she'd be back soon — she was the only living creature in this house who didn't flinch at the sight of her, or worse.

Alice, though still rather small and skinny for her age, had grown a few inches over the last year. Her jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever she did to it. The eyes behind her glasses were bright green, and on her forehead, hidden by thick bangs, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Of all the unusual things about Alice, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Alice's parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash. They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Alice had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on her forehead, where Voldemort's curse, instead of killing her, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled...

But Alice had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering their last meeting as she stood at the dark window, Alice had to admit she was lucky even to have reached her thirteenth birthday.

She listened fiercely for any sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to her with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise. Gazing absently at the shadowed ceiling, it was a few seconds before Alice realized what she was hearing.

Growing louder every moment, was, from the heavy wingbeats, a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Alice's direction. She stood quite still, Hearing it draw closer. For a split second she hesitated, her hand against the cupboard latch, wondering whether

to chance it. But then she heard a piercing cry and with a muffled curse, Alice opened the lock and ran to the open parlor window. In soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft _flump _on the company couch, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.

Alice recognized the unconscious owl at once — his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. Alice dashed to the couch, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to the kitchen. She listened closely before running the tap, filling a small bowl. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

Alice turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was her own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Alice an affectionate nip with her beak as she removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol.

Alice didn't recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but she knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Alice relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night.

Alice retreated to her cupboard, stopping on the way to remind Errol and Hedwig to be gone by morning. She grabbed Errol's package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold and her first ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, she opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out — a letter and a newspaper clipping.

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Alice picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read:

_MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE_

_Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw._

_A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."_

_The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend._

Alice scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across her face as she saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at her, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn't

show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.

Alice couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor. She picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it.

_Dear Alice,_

_Happy birthday!_

_Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I_

_asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted._

_It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses_

_those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff._

_I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year._

Alice remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car the two of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds.

_We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?_

_Don't let the Muggles get you down!_

_Try and come to London,_

_Ron_

_P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week._

Alice glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts,

was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.

Alice now turned to her presents and unwrapped the first. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it.

_Alice — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup._

_Bye — Ron_

Alice put the Pocket Sneakoscope on her bedside table (an upside down carboard box), where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of her clock. She looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the second package, a bit more warily. The only other Weasleys who would get her a present were Fred and George, the lunatics. She pulled the string flinching back, expecting some explosive prank, but nothing happenned. Warily, she snatched up the note and read it.

_Ali- We know, your shocked nothing's exploded __**yet**__, _

Alice gulped at the emphasis, and read on.

_but no worries, we suspect the consequences would be rather upsetting. So, instead, I, the better looking t-(_Here the Writing changed, and some words were hard to read under ink splatters_) -What Gred means is my lesser half, in a surprising stroke of near-Forge-like intelligence realized a more inconspicuous present would be of value. I, of course, being the gifted ha- -What that bloody git is trying to say is we thought you would prefer this to getting pranked, its a rune, Ron, said you were taking the class, so heres you're first project!_

_Mischief Managed-Gred & Forge_

Relieved, Alice opened the small cloth bag, and saw a leather strap. Further investigation showed it to be a necklace, with one charm; a pice of some polished stone which appeared to be hand carved with runes. Pulling it over her head, Alice ripped into the nextparcel Hedwig had brought.

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione.

_Dear Alice,_

_Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right. I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you —_

_what if they'd opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

_There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long — it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for._

_Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!_

_Love from Hermione_

_P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it. _Alice laughed as he put Hermione's letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy.

Knowing Hermione, she was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells — but it wasn't. Her heart gave a huge bound as she ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading _Broomstick Servicing Kit._

"Wow, Hermione!" Alice whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail- Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a _Handbook of Do- It-Yourself Broomcare._

Apart from her friends, the thing that Alice missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world — highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Alice happened to be a very good Quidditch player; she had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of Alice's most prized possessions was her Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom.

Alice put the leather case aside and picked up the last parcel. She recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. She tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before she could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly — as though it had jaws.

Alice froze. She knew that Hagrid would never send her anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Alice poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. Alice reached for her history book on her bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over her head, ready to strike. Then she seized the rest of the wrapping paper in her other hand and pulled.

And out fell — a book. Alice just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title _The Monster Book of Monsters_, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab.

"Uh-oh," Alice muttered.

The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Alice followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under her cot. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Alice got down on her hands and knees and reached toward it.

"Ouch!"

The book snapped shut on her hand and then flapped past her, still scuttling on its covers. Alice scrambled around, threw herself forward, and managed to flatten it. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt upstairs.

Alice clamped the struggling book tightly in her arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which she buckled tightly around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Alice threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid's card.

_Dear Alice,_

_Happy Birthday!_

_Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you. Hope the Muggles are treating you right._

_All the best,_

_Hagrid_

It struck Alice as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but she put Hagrid's card up next to Ron's and Hermione's, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left.

Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Alice slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

_Dear Mrs. Potter,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

_Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_A list of books for next year is enclosed. Yours sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Alice pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; she knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and she had never set foot there. But how on earth was she going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form?

She looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning.

Deciding that she'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when she woke up, Alice got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart she'd made for herself, counting down the days left until her return to Hogwarts. Then she took off her glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing her three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though she was, at that moment Alice Potter felt just like everyone else — glad, for the first time in her life, that it was her birthday.


	2. Chapter 2

Alice went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Alice had spent 3 days in the shed with only water for suggesting it might help precious Dudders lose some weight. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Alice sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Alice a happy birthday, only Uncle Vernon's cruel smile gave any sign that they had noticed Alice enter the room, but Alice was far too used to this to care. She helped herself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.

"...the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us _he's _no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"

He shot a nasty look sideways at Alice, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Alice felt very well groomed indeed.

The reporter had reappeared.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today —"

"Hang on!" barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Alice knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.  
"When will they _learn_," said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"  
"Very true," said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner-beans.  
Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."

Alice, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump.

"Aunt Marge?" she blurted out. "Sh-_she's _not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Alice's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), she had been forced to call her 'Aunt' all her life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Alice's mind.

At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Alice around the shins with her walking stick to stop her from beating Dudley at musical statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Alice. On her last visit, the year before Alice started at Hogwarts, Alice had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Alice out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes, and made Alice's back tingle.

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject," he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Alice, "we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Alice being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

"All right," said Alice bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to me."

"Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Alice's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your _abnormality_, I don't want any — any _funny _stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," said Alice through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Youths."

_"What?" _Alice yelled.  
"And you'll be sticking to that story, freak, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.

Alice sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a weeklong visit — it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given her, including her 7th birthday!

"Well, Petunia," said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Alice.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow-tie."

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.  
"See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen.  
Alice, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning her toast, she got quickly to her feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door. Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.  
"I'm not taking _you_," he snarled as he turned to see Alice watching him. "Like I wanted to come," said Alice coldly. "I want to ask you something." Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"Third years at Hog — at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes," said Alice. "So?" snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door.  
"I need you to sign the permission form," said Alice in a rush.  
"And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon.

"Well," said Alice, choosing her words carefully, "it'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits..."

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Youths!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Alice was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice.

"Exactly," said Alice, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. "It's a lot to remember. I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? What if I accidentally let something slip?"

_"You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" _roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Alice with his fist raised. But Alice stood her ground.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," she said grimly.

Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

"But if you sign my permission form," Alice went on quickly, "I swear I'll remember where I'm supposed to go to school, and I'll act like a Mug — like I'm normal and everything."

Alice could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he snapped finally. "I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy form."

He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.

Alice didn't return to the kitchen. She went back to her cupboard. If she was going to act like a real Muggle, she'd better start now. Slowly and sadly she gathered up all her presents and her birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with her homework. Alice, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the cot.

But Alice didn't have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking through the door for Alice to get out and get ready to welcome their guest.

"Do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as she reached the hall.

Alice couldn't see the point of trying to make her hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticizing her, so the untidier she looked, the happier she would be.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Alice.  
A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Alice pulled the door open.  
On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-

faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.

"Where's my Dudders?" roared Aunt Marge. "Where's my neffy poo?"

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Alice's stomach, knocking the wind out of her, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek.

Alice knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

"Petunia!" shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Alice as though she was a hat-stand. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunias bony cheekbone.

Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.  
"Tea, Marge?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"  
"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," said Aunt Marge as they all proceeded into the

kitchen, leaving Alice alone in the hall with the suitcase. But Alice wasn't complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by her, so she began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as she could.

By the time she got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Alice saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," boomed Aunt Marge. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."

Ripper began to growl again as Alice sat down. This directed Aunt Marge's attention to Alice for the first time.

"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you?"  
"Yes," said Alice.  
"Don't you say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone," Aunt Marge growled. "It's damn good of Vernon

and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on _my _doorstep."

Alice was bursting to say that she'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped her. She forced her face into a painful smile.

"Don't you smirk at me!" boomed Aunt Marge. "I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, "Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus's," said Uncle Vernon promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."  
"I see," said Aunt Marge. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, girl?" she barked across the table. "Er —"  
Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.  
"Yes," said Alice. Then, feeling she might as well do the thing properly, she added, "All the time." "Excellent," said Aunt Marge. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about

not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have _you _been beaten often?"

"Oh, yeah," said Alice, "loads of times."  
Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.  
"I still don't like your tone, girl," she said. "If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way,

they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this girl's case."

Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Alice might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.

"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Alice caught herself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Alice to stay out of their way, which Alice was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Alice under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for her improvement. She delighted in comparing Alice with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Alice, as though daring her to ask why she hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Alice such an unsatisfactory person.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the girl's turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the _inside_, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Alice tried to concentrate on her food, but her hands shook and her face was starting to burn with anger. _Remember the form, s_he told herself. _Think about Hogsmeade. Don't say anything. Don't rise —_

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup —"

At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

"Marge!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip..."

But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Alice suspiciously, so she decided she'd better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as she could.

Outside in the hall, she leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since she'd lost control and made something explode. She couldn't afford to let it happen again. The Hogsmeade form wasn't the only thing at stake — if she carried on like that, she'd be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic.

Alice was still an underage witch, and she was forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside school. Her record wasn't exactly clean either. Only last summer she'd gotten an official warning that had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Alice would face expulsion from Hogwarts.

She heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried out of the way.

Alice got through the next three days by forcing herself to think about his _Handbook of Do-It- Yourself Broomcare _whenever Aunt Marge started on her. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give her a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that she was mentally subnormal.

At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge's stay arrived. Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Alice's faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them a with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"  
Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.

"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that...and a bit more...that's the ticket."

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Alice really wanted to disappear into her cupboard, but she met Uncle Vernon's angry little eyes and knew she would have to sit it out.

"Aah," said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after..." She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon..."

"Now, this one here —"  
She jerked her head at Alice, who felt her stomach clench. _The Handbook_, she thought quickly. "This one's got a mean, runty look about her. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred."  
Alice was trying to remember page twelve of her book: _A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers.  
_"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" — she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."

Alice was staring at her plate, a funny ringing in her ears. _Grasp your broom firmly by the tail_, she thought. But she couldn't remember what came next. Aunt Marge's voice seemed to be boring into her like one of Uncle Vernon's drills.

"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He — didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Alice. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —"

"He was not," said Alice suddenly. The table went very quiet. Alice was shaking all over. She had never felt so angry in her life.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You, freak," he snarled at Alice. "I'll deal with you later! Get, go on —"

"No, Vernon," hiccupped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Alice's. "Go on, girl, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) —"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" said Alice, who found herself on her feet.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little —"

But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger — but the swelling didn't stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech — next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls — she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami...

"MARGE!" yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge's whole body began to rise off her chair toward the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises. Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon's leg.

Alice tore from the dining room before anyone could stop her, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as she reached it. In seconds, she had heaved her trunk to the front door. She sprinted back and threw herself under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcase full of her books and birthday presents. She wriggled out, seized Hedwig's empty cage, and dashed back downstairs to her trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.

"COME BACK IN HERE!" he bellowed. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

But a reckless rage had come over Alice. She kicked her trunk open, pulled out her wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon.

"She deserved it," Alice said, breathing very fast. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from me."

She fumbled behind her for the latch on the door.  
"I'm going," Alice said. "I've had enough."  
And in the next moment, she was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving her heavy trunk behind her, Hedwig's cage under her arm.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: THIS IS THE CHAPTER WHERE THINGS START CHANGING. A warning, references to abuse, attempted assault of a minor, and brothels. If you don't like don't read.**

Alice was several streets away before she collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging her trunk. She sat quite still, anger still surging through her, listening to the frantic thumping of her heart. If Uncle Vernon had caught her before she got her wand- well, Alice refused to think of it.

But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook her: panic. Whichever way she looked at it, she had never been in a worse fix. She was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, she had just done serious magic, which meant that she was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. She had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, she was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren't swooping down on her where she sat. Not to mention, if the Dursley's got ahold of her... there wouldn't be anyone left for the Ministry to find. Alice shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent.

What was going to happen to her? Would she be arrested, or would she simply be outlawed from the wizarding world? She thought of Ron and Hermione, and her heart sank even lower. Alice was sure that, criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help her now, but they were both abroad, and with Hedwig gone, she had no means of contacting them.

She didn't have any Muggle money, either. There was a little wizard gold in the money bag at the bottom of her trunk, but the rest of the fortune her parents had left her was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London. She'd never be able to drag her trunk all the way to London. Unless...

She looked down at her wand, which she was still clutching in her hand. If she was already expelled (her heart was now thumping painfully fast), a bit more magic couldn't hurt. She had the Invisibility Cloak she had inherited from her father — what if she bewitched the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to her broomstick, covered herself in the cloak, and flew to London? Then she could get the rest of her mo- a sudden thought struck Alice, and she hit herself in the forehead. Mrs Weasley had never sent her key after last year, and she didn't know of any other way to access a Gringotts vault. Not to mention she was a fugitive, now. She couldn't just waltz into a bank! And yes she had some money but a handful of galleons wouldn't last very long. She cursed softly, ignoring the dogs curious bark. She imagined once her money ran out, she could find a place willing to hire a thirteen-year-old, someplace that wouldn't ask for credentials. It was a horrible prospect, but she couldn't sit on this wall forever, or she'd find herself trying to explain to Muggle police why she was out in the dead of night with a trunk full of spell books and a broomstick.

Alice opened her trunk again and pushed the contents aside, looking for the Invisibility Cloak — but before she had found it, she straightened up suddenly, looking around her once more.

A funny prickling on the back of her neck had made Alice feel she was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

She bent over her trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, her hand clenched on her wand. She had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind her. Alice squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then she'd know whether it was just a stray cat or — something else.

"_Lumos,_" Alice muttered, and a light appeared at the end of her wand, almost dazzling him. She held it high over her head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Alice saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

Alice stepped backward. Her legs hit her trunk and she almost tripped. Her wand flew out of her hand, as she stumbled, catching herself. "Damn!" Alice cursed, as her wand went out. Now she was stuck on a dark street with a giant dog and no wand. "Fate hates me" she muttered, feeling around for her wand. She could sense the dog getting closer, and her movements became more hurried, until- Something furry butted her side, sending sharp pains through her body. Alice collapsed, moaning, and holding her sides. She heard the dog whimper, and then felt something solid drop onto her chest; her wand. Still unsteady from the pain, Alice groaned, trying to sit up. The dog whimpered again, and shook its head, as though saying stay down. She ignored it, and made her way to her toppled trunk, sitting on it. The dog followed, licking her cheek. Alice giggled lightly "Stop that, you!" reaching out to scratch her new friends back, with the hand holding her wand. There was a deafening BANG, and Alice threw up her hands to shield her eyes against a sudden blinding light...

With a yell, she pulled the dog back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where he had just been sitting. They belonged, as Alice saw when she raised her head, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled _The Knight Bus_.

For a split second, Alice wondered if she had been knocked silly by her fall. Then a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—"

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Alice, who was still sitting on her trunk, the exceedingly scruffy dog sprawled over her. Alice pushed of the dog -_I really need to figure out his name, i can't just keep calling him The Dog-_ and scrambled to her feet. Close up, she saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than she was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples.

"What were you doin' down there?" said Stan, dropping his professional manner.  
"Fell over," said Alice.  
"'Choo fall over for?" sniggered Stan.  
"I didn't do it on purpose," said Alice, annoyed. One of the knees in her jeans was torn, and the hand she had thrown out to break her and the dog's fall was bleeding. She looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Alice saw Stan's eyes move to the scar on Alice's forehead.

"Woss that on your 'ead?" said Stan abruptly.

"Nothing," said Alice quickly, flattening her bangs over her scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for her, she didn't want to make it too easy for them.

"Woss your name?" Stan persisted.

"Mia Granger," said Alice, saying the first name that came into her head. "So — so this bus," she went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, "did you say it goes _anywhere_?"

"Yep," said Stan proudly, "anywhere you like, 'long it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater.

"Ere," he said, looking suspicious again, "you _did _flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'and, dincha?"

"Yes," said Alice quickly. "Listen, how much would it be to get to London?"

"Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot- water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

Alice rummaged once more in her trunk, extracted her money bag, and shoved some gold into Stan's hand. She and Stan then lifted her trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus, her new friend following eagerly.

There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs" and rolled over in his sleep.

"You 'ave this one," Stan whispered, shoving Alice's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Mia Granger, Ern."

Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Alice, who nervously flattened her bangs again and sat down on her bed next to the dog.

"Take'er away, Ern," said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie's.

There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Alice found herself flat on her bed, clutching to the dog, that was whining piteously. Pulling herself up, Alice stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Alice's stunned face with great enjoyment.

"This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," said Ernie.  
"How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" said Alice.  
"Them!" said Stan contemptuously. "Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either.

Never notice nuffink, they don'."  
"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," said Ern. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."  
Stan passed Alice's bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Alice was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous, petting the dog in an attempt to calm herself. Ernie didn't seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak.

"'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," said Stan happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way.

Alice wouldn't have been able to sleep even if she had been traveling on a bus that didn't keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. Her stomach churned as she fell back to wondering what was going to happen to her, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet.

Stan had unfurled a copy of the _Daily Prophet _and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Alice from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

"That man!" Alice said, forgetting her troubles for a moment. "He was on the Muggle news!" Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled.  
"Sirius Black," he said, nodding. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Mia. Where you been?"

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Alice's face, removed the front page, and handed it to Alice.

"You oughta read the papers more, Mia."  
Alice held the paper up to the candlelight and read:  
_BLACK STILL AT LARGE  
Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding_

_capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.  
"We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this_

_morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."  
Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing_

_the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.  
"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to_

_anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"_

_While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

Alice looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Alice had never met a vampire, but she had seen pictures of them in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one.

"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" said Stan, who had been watching Alice read.  
"He murdered _thirteen people_?" said Alice, handing the page back to Stan, "with _one curse_?" "Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit,

Ern?"  
"Ar," said Ern darkly.  
Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Alice. The dog whimpered again, before crossing his paws over his eyes.  
"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said.  
"What, Voldemort?" said Alice, without thinking.  
Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse

had to jump aside to avoid the bus.  
"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. "'Choo say 'is name for?" "Sorry," said Alice hastily. "Sorry, I — I forgot —"  
"Forgot!" said Stan weakly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast..."

"So — so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?" Alice prompted apologetically.

"Yeah," said Stan, still rubbing his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say...anyway, when little 'Alice Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo" — Alice nervously flattened her bangs down again — "all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" said Alice.

"Laughed," said Stan. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," said Ern in his slow voice. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you...after what he did..."

"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan said. "'Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," grunted Ernie.

"An' now 'e's out," said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

Ernie suddenly shivered. "Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Alice leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. She couldn't help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights' time.

"'Ear about that 'Alice Potter? Blew up 'er aunt! We 'ad 'er 'ere on the Knight Bus, di'n't we, Ern? 'E was tryin' to run for it..."

She, Alice, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land her in Azkaban? Alice didn't know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone she'd ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Alice wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Alice knew.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Alice lay, restless and miserable, on her feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Alice had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Alice's pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesey to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go.

Finally, Alice was the only passenger left.  
"Right then, Mia," said Stan, clapping his hands, "whereabouts in London?"  
"Knockturn Alley," said Alice.  
"Knockturn? You gotts' ta mean Diagon, righ' Mia?," said Stan, bewildered.

"No, I mean Knockturn!" Alice stated calmly. Knockturn Alley, as she remembered far to well, would certainly have someplace she could work.

"'Old tight, then." Stan said, looking uncertain, and suspicious.  
BANG.  
They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Alice sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. She would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off — where, she didn't know.

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt at a dingy wooden building, called the Mangled Mermaid.

"Thanks," Alice said to Ern.

She jumped down the steps after the dog, and helped Stan lower her trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement.

"Well," said Alice. "Bye then!"

Stan nodded, giving her another unreadable look before hopping back on the purple double decker. Turning, Alice looked at the building in front of her with uncertainty. It looked exceedingly seedy, which she supposed meant it would be perfect for her. She remembered when she was five, and Uncle Vernon had sold her to a London whore-house. Of course, he returned home and reported her missing a few hours later. When the police raided Candyland, as it was called, they had been just in time to save her from -she shuddered.

"Don't go there Alice!" she said to herself, before squaring her shoulders and rolling her trunk toward the Mermaid.

The dog jumped in front of her, growling, and Alice kneeled down next to him.

"I don't have a choice, I'm running out of money, and if the ministry finds me, I'm dead!" The shaggy dog looked at her

"It's true! I'll get expelled, and they'll send me back _their, _and they'l kill me... or worse!" The dog whined, but moved aside, and followed her to the door.

Upon entering, Alice was immediately reminded on Candyland, but resisted the urge to bolt. It was loud inside, the bar was empty, and there were girls walking around, most older then her. Grimacing, Alice forced her way forward, avoiding the groping hands of several drunks. She made her way to the empty bar, and put her trunk behind it. The dog-no, he was her dog now- looked up at her, confused. She faked a smile, and whispered

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing!" She then ducked under the bar with her dog, and rummaged through her trunk for a specific outfit.

"Got it!" she muttered, pulling out her first year Uniform.

She pulled Dudley's oversized shirt over her head, and pulled on the shirt. Alice was fairly well developed for a thirteen year old, and left the top few buttons undone. Frowning, Alice looked at her dog and muttered "Hey, would you be able to find me a wand around here?" He licked her face, before running around the bar.

"I guess that's a yes" she murmured, taking the time to put on the black skirt and a pair of too high socks.

Her dog trotted round the bar, with a black wand in his mouth. Alice grinned in pride "Good boy!" she praised, before pointing the wand at herself. A few charms made her clothes suitably indecent, and with another grimace, she tied a loose Hogwarts tie around her neck. Checking her reflection in a bottle, Alice thought something was missing... "Make-up... shit!" she muttered, and pulled out a bag. Muggle foundation hid her scar, eyeliner made her eyes pop, and red lipstick finished off the look. Taking off her glasses, and putting in the contacts Madam Pomfrey had ordered her for quidditch, Alice deemed her self unrecognizable. She furrowed her brow in concentration, and her hair became a dark wine color. She wasn't a metamorphagus, but she could channel her magic through her skin, and change certain things. Ignoring her dog's lolling tongue, Alice stood and began wiping down the bar. The rest of the evening passed without a hitch, most customers only interested in a drink, and the better endowed girls. A few tried to entice her over the bar, but Alice refused, without being rude, flirting back in a teasing manner. By the time most customers had left, it was past dawn, and Alice felt well and truly dirty. She just wanted to flop on a bed somewhere and sleep, but first she needed a bed. A loud voice startled her from her thoughts.

"What's a youngster like you doin' in a place like this?" Alice whipped around, and found herself face to face with a tall woman, clearly the Ma. Alice stumbled over her words, and the harsh look on the woman's face softened as she observed her.

"Why don't choo and choo' furry pal follow me 'round back?" The woman asked, and Alice nodded.

Grabbing her trunk and telling her dog to follow her, she let the woman lead her to what was obviously an office. The woman pointed her to a chair, clearly telling her to sit.

"Now, 'ould'choo mind telling me why you were behind that bar, dressed like this?" Ma asked.

Alice gulped, nervously.

"Well... nobody was there, and i thought i might as well do the work since nobody else was." she said, pulling on a loose thread on her skirt.

"Yes, I guessed tha', but what's a girl like'choo doin' in a place like this?" the woman asked, leaning on her desk questioningly.

The stress of the night and day finally caught up with Alice, as instead of answering she began to cry. She wiped furiously at her eyes, before whispering "I don't have any place else to go"

The woman frowned, concerned. "Now, that can't be true. Did'choo run away? I'm sure you' parents are worried sick!"

"My parents are dead" Alice said tonelessly through her tears.

"Oh..." the woman looked shocked "I'm so sorry, deary. What about choo' guardians, won't they be worried?"

Alice chuckled humorlessly "Oh, yes, worried they can't kill me themselves" she said.

The woman's eyes darted to her shirt, where she could make out an ace bandage, and the large bruise showing where her make-up had been rubbed away. Her eyes shut, before she nodded in understanding.

"I see... Well, I can't let'choo work-"

"Why not? I can do it! I've had to before..." almost, Alice added mentally.

A mournful look crossed the woman's face "Oh, darlin, what di' they do to yeh?" she asked, more to herself, then to Alice "I mean i can't let'choo _work _but'choo ca' keep the bar, and room upstairs. If anyon' tries' ta give choo any trouble, just te'em tha' Ma Sug sai' choo weren' ta be bothered, okeh?"

Alice looked up, and before the woman-Ma Sug knew what had happened Alice had leapt up, and was babbling her thanks.

"Don'choo say a thin', dearie, Jus' follah meh ta you' new room" Ma Sug said, standing up.

She led Alice up a flight of stairs, down a hall, up more stairs, through a room, and down a different set of stairs, hidden in a coat closet, before finally stopping in front of a mint-green door.

"Here we are, and-" Ma Sug handed Alice a bronze key, which she took curiously "This i' choo' key, always keep thi' door locked, an' don' unlock it fo' anyone unless it's me o' one o' the girls. Now, if'choo need anythin', jus' ask, a'righ' doll?"

Before Alice could answer, Ma Sug had bustled away. She shrugged, and unlocked her door, dragging her trunk in. Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some rough oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the crooked wardrobe —  
"Hedwig!" Alice gasped.  
The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Alice's arm.  
She remembered Ma Sug's advce and turned around to lock her door. When she turned back, her dog had already flopped over half her bed.

"Hedwig, this is... well, he doesn't have a name yet. We need to fix that" She looked at the dog.

"Do you have a home?" she asked. The dog shook its head.

"Will you stay with me?" Alice had barely finished the question when the dog leapt onto her, slobbering all over her face.

"Ok, OK! Get off, you mutt!" she laughed, trying to block any more kisses.

"If you're going to be mine, i need something to call you, other than dog." Her dog cocked its head to the side, tongue lolling out. Alice laughed at the thoughtful expression.

"How about... smoky?" the dog just looked at her as though questioning her sanity.

"Merlin, it was just a suggestion!" she muttered.

The dog nudged Alice, and held out its paw.

"Paws? Toe? Foot?" A sharp yip and a nod was her dogs response to foot, "ok... thats a weird name, is there more?"

The dog nodded again before holding out its paw, again.

"Print? Umm.. merlin, what's another word for a paw... Pad-" the dog interrupted her with a happy yip.

"Footpad? No, ok, Padfoot?" Alice laughed, as Padfoot pounced on her, again covering her with slobbery kisses. She laughed, pushing him off, and was distracted by Hedwig's indignant hoot.

"Sorry, girl. So, Hedwig, this is Padfoot. He's part of our family now, ok?" the snowy owl gave a hoot of acceptance. The make-shift family curled up together on the bed, Hedwig perched on the end-table, sirius curled in front of Alice who was lying on her bed.

Alice lay on her bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig with one hand, her other tangled in Padfoot's shaggy coat. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Alice could hardly believe that she'd left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that she hadn't been caught, and that she was now facing three completely Dursley-free weeks.

"It's been a very weird night, Hedwig," she yawned.  
And without even removing her glasses, she slumped back onto her pillows and fell asleep curled up alongside her family.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Alice several days to get used to her strange new life. Never before had she been able to get up whenever she wanted or eat whatever he fancied. Her only restrictions were keeping the bar from 8pm, when the Mermaid opened for business, till whenever the last Tom left. The wizarding worlds term for Johns brought her no little amusement. Alice couldn't help but wonder if this contributed to Voldemort's hatred of his name. When Alice had mentioned this to one of the girls, she had been interrogated on how she knew such personal facts about "You-Know-Who". Yet even that brought a feeling of welcome, and belonging. Aside from a few places that, from Ma Sug's warning's she wouldn't have entered anyway, she could go wherever she pleased, as long as it was in Knockturn Alley. Alice ate breakfast each morning with the other girls in the kitchen. After breakfast Alice would done a thick black cloak she had bought one of her first days in the Alley, and roam the winding road. Alice quickly discovered that Mrs Weasley could never have been down the Alley. Sure, the first section was frighteningly dark, but at the first sharp bend everything changed. The stores weren't selling dark item's, or anything remotely shady. In fact, they were just like the stores seen on Diagon, if one ignored the people, that is. Alice was shocked, her first time out in the Alley to run into a Vampire. A rather nice, if not tired man had explained things to a dumbfounded Alice. "See, everyone assumes that the Alley is dark, but it's not. It's just the only place willing to hire what the Ministry has deemed Dark Creatures." His voice had gotten bitter at the end. Mr. Moony, as he had asked her to call him, worked at a used bookshop. His hair had streaks of grey, his face and arms had scars, and his robes were so patched they were more patch then robe. Despite all this, Mr. Moony was a very nice man, always willing to answer any of Alice's questions. She had taken to doing her summer homework behind the desk with him, where he could help her with any subject- except potions, which he was even worse at then Alice. The first time Alice had asked him for help, Mr. Moony had been shocked "You're only a third year?" he had asked. Alice had nodded, and he had immediately asked her what the bloody hell she was doing at a place like the Mangled Mermaid. That had been their first major disagreement, but Alice wasn't willing to give any more information then she had to. In the Alley, She went by Astrid, which was close enough to Alice that she wouldn't forget, and followed the magical _ of naming children after stars. The second was important to Alice, because it prevented any questions of her ancestry.

Once Alice received her earnings, excluding tips from Ma Sug, her money bag was clamoring with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts. She had to keep reminding herself that she had to survive until, well, forever. The thing that most tested Alice's control appeared a week after her arrival on Knockturn Alley, inside the only quidditch shop.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Alice edged her way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until she glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom she had ever seen in her life.

"Just come out — prototype —" a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion.

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaked a boy younger than Alice, who was swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!"

A large witch in front of Alice moved, and she was able to read the sign next to the broom:

_** THE FIREBOLT **_

_THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST_.

Price on request...Alice didn't like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. She had never wanted anything as much in her whole life — but she had never lost a Quidditch match on her Nimbus Two Thousand, and she couldn't access her Gringotts vault anyway. Alice didn't ask for the price, but she returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt.

There were, however, things that Alice could, and did buy. Books, for one. Mr. Moony was never reprimanded for letting Alice stay behind the counter, because she was likely the store's most loyal customer. On August 29th, Alice got a surprise as she looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of slightly creased gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively. Mr. Moony looked about ready to cry as he whacked them with a walking stick. Alice wished that Padfoot was there to see it, but ever since she mentioned Mr. Moony, he had refused to go into the shop, instead disappearing to Merlin-knows-where.

"Oh, hello there, Astrid. I'm a bit busy today, i don't know how much help I'll be." Mr. Moony called.

Alice chuckled.

"Do you need some help?"

"Yes, but i don't think there's much you can do." Mr. Moony said, leaning against the cage.

"Have you tried stroking the spines, and giving them a steak?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

"Astrid, these _are_ booksmuch as they are _acting_ like real monsters right now." he stated matter-of-fact, appearing worried for her sanity.

"Oh, yes, I know that! But, you see as they are behaving like animals, why not treat them as such? Just last year one student's family car came to life, and ran wild in the Forbidden Forest!" Alice explained.

Remus gave her a rather disbelieving look, but retreated to the store-room, and when he came back, threw two slabs of ham into the cage. The books immediately stopped trying to eat each other, instead focussing on finishing off the meat before settling down, emitting soft snoring noises. Remus went to thank her, but Alice wasn't listening. Her eyes had fallen on another book, which was among a display on a small table: _Death Omens — What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming._

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," said Mr. Moony lightly, looking to see what Alice was staring at. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

But Alice continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar... Alice chuckled internally, and looked back at Mr. Moony.

"Sorry Mr. Moony, i got distracted by the books again." Alice didn't know why, but she had a feeling that telling Mr. Moony about Padfoot would be very bad.

"It's fine, Astrid." Mr. Moony said.

Alice passed the remainder of the day until 7, when Mr. Moony had to close the shop, and she had to start back towards the Mermaid.

"Would you like to take a walk, Astrid?" Mr. Moony asked when he had locked the front door.

"I'd love to, but i have to go be ready for work by 8" Alice replied guiltily, knowing how Mr. Moony felt about her circumstances.

"Very well, I will see you tomorrow, then?" He asked, visibly upset.

Alice nodded, before darting towards the Mermaid, Padfoot appearing by her side at one point during the journey. Right as Alice reached the porch of her temporary home, a tawny owl alighted in front of her, and held out it's leg. Surprised, and suspicious, Alice snatched the letter away, and watched the owl fly away. The letter had the familiar Hogwarts seal, but was far heavier then Alice remembered. Alice sprinted to her room, and tore open the envelope. The first thing she saw was a letter from Professor McGonagall. Hands shaking with nerves, Alice began to read

_Ms. Potter-_

_I will not try to understand what was running through your mind that you would run away from your home, but it could not possibly have warranted your actions. There is a team of Aurors searching for you, and no letters have been able to reach you. Ms. Potter, I implore you to respond, and at least inform us of your safety. There is a mass-murderer on the lose, who having worked for You-Know-Who has every reason to focus on finding and killing yourself. Enclosed is the third-year book-list, which if necessary we can assist you in requiring. Please know that if the incident with your aunt has any part in your disappearance, there is no punishment until the third occurrence of underaged witchcraft. Term begins, as always on the first of September, and the train departs at precisely 11 o'clock. Please do not take it upon yourself to find an alternate means of arrival. The school has no desire for a repeat of last year's incident. Similar to your books, transportation will be arranged if necessary._

_Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor, Professor _

Minerva McGonagall.

Alice sat back on her bed, jaw hanging.

"Can you believe it guys? I'm not expelled... I'm not a fugitive, never was!" Alice said to her family.

Hedwig glided to her shoulder, and nipped at her ear affectionately. Padfoot leapt of the bar, and gave a bark of joy, tail wagging. Alice laughed, before jumping up.

"Bloody Hell! I have to buy my school books tomorrow, and I'll need to speak to Ma Sug... and I obviously need to write back to Professor McGonagall before i can get ready for my shift!" Alice realized, and leapt off her bed, startling hedwig who gave a disproving shriek and flew out the window.

Alice knew she would have to apologize soon, and pulled out her parchment and a quill to write her response.

_Professor McGonagall-_

_I apologize sincerely for any trouble my disappearance has caused. I had received a letter from the Improper use of Magic office informing me of my Expulsion from Hogwarts, and my Uncle was so angry, I panicked. I had not considered that Sirius Black had any more reason to come after me than he would anyone else, and again apologize. I will be able to gather my own books, and there is no need for concern, I do not plan to repeat last year's entrance ever again. I also have a request, however. As I was unaware that I would be returning to Hogwarts, I took in a stray ... or, rather, he adopted me. He's very lovable, if a bit overprotective, and he has nowhere else to go. Will he be allowed to accompany me at Hogwarts? I know the rules state that students may only have one pet, and it can only be a cat, owl, or toad, but other students have animals that are none of the above, and he really is well-behaved! Please respond,_

Alice Potter

Alice called out for Hedwig, and tied the letter to her leg. Before she could apologize, Hedwig had taken off, cuffing her with her wing on the way out. Alice sighed, before sitting down to finish her mental to-do list.

Alice woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that she would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. Se got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where Mr. Moony could be, because the bookshop was closed, when someone yelled her Alley name.

"Astrid! Astrid!"

It was Mr. Moony, and he was out-of-breath by the time he reached her.

"There you are! I asked Ma Sug, but she thought I was.. Well, she refused to tell me, so I had to try to find you on foot. I have news!" he panted.

"Well, here I am, what's happened?" Alice asked curiously.

"Albus Dumbledore asked me to teach defense this year at Hogwarts! Isn't it wonderful?"He asked, smiling so wide she though his cheeks would split.

"That's great!" Alice said, trying to sound excited.

Internally she was panicking. If Mr. Moony went to Hogwarts he'd find out her real name, and then he would tell, and she would get those looks again...the ones that clearly showed pity, and disgust. Mr. Moony seemed to hear her panic, though and his smile shrank.

"What's wrong, Astrid?"he asked.

"You-You won't tell anyone-Will you?" Alice stammered.

Mr. Moony looked confused for a moment until realization crossed his face.

"Does your family know where you are, Astrid?"

"No, but if I was with them, I would be in far worse shape."

Mr. Moony frowned, but let her comment slide.

"Very well, I swear i will keep your secret"

Alice hugged Mr. Moony, surprising both herself and him, babbling her thanks. He seemed uncomfortable, before he began to chuckle.

"Yes, well, I need to go pack my belongings, which you should probably do as well. Will you need an escort to the station?" Alice nodded vigorously "Very well, I will meet you outside your...lodgings at half-past 10, is that appropriate?"

"Oh yes, thank you so much Mr. Moony, for everything!" Alice hugged the man again and then bolted back towards the Mermaid.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Alice felt ready to collapse of exhaustion. Wiping down the last glass, she sighed, and stumbled through the hallways till she reached her green door. She unlocked the door and kicked it shut, before flopping facedown on her bed. What felt like only a few minutes later, she woke to something licking her feet. Alice groaned and curled up into a ball.

"Go 'way Pa'foo" sleep slurred her speech.

Instead of listening, she felt the mattress bounce and suddenly she was pushed out of the bed. Now wide awake, Alice stood.

"What was that for, Pads?" She muttered, and looked at her "calendar".

Of course, Alice's calendar was actually a piece of parchment, with a bunch of squares drawn in. Fumbling around the end-table for her glasses, Alice looked at the date.

"Bloody Hell! Mr. Moony's going to be here soon, thanks Pads!" she shouted, grabbing her uniform and dashing out her door.

20 minutes later, Alice was being helped out the door by Ma Sug, a donut in one hand, and Hedwig's cage in the other. She could see Mr. Moony standing a few feet from the porch stairs, seemingly debating whether to come closer or not. One last hug from Ma Sug, and Alice had raced to Mr. Moony's side, followed for the first time by Padfoot. As soon as he saw Padfoot, Alice could have sworn his eyes glinted amber. A dangerous look crossed his face, before he pushed Alice behind him.

"Mr. Moony, wh-"

"Alice, where did you find this dog?" he asked, with a sneer as he said dog.

Alice paled when he called her by her real name, but Mr. Moony looked to angry for her to question it.

"H-He saved me! I-I m-m-met him when I ran away, a-and he kn-kn-knocked me out of the w-way o-of the Kn-kn-knight Bus!" Alice stammered.

"He's never hurt you? He saved you?" Mr. Moony asked disbelievingly.

"N-never! Please M-mr. Moony-d-d-don't hurt him, he's m-my family!" she pleaded.

"If you're sure... I'm sorry Alice, i didn't mean to frighten you, he just reminded me of i dog i used to know." Mr. Moony said contritely.

Alice moved out from behind him, walking over to Padfoot and her supplies.

"I guess it's alright Mr. Moony, you were just being overprotective again." she said with a small smile.

Mr. Moony chuckled and grabbed her trunk before agreeing.

"Yes, well, I am sorry about that Alice." Alice's eyes narrowed at the sound of her name.

"About that... How do you know my name?" she said suspiciously.

"Oh-well- It's a bit of a long story, you see" He looked surprised.

Alice smiled sweetly, and said

"Well, its a good thing we have time, then, isn't it." she stated.

Mr Moony looked worried, but nodded. Alice followed him at his motion towards the end of the alley, where the Knight Bus had last dropped her off.

"We're taking the Knight Bus?" She asked surprised.

"Yes, i know your last trip wasn't the best, but its the quickest way, and we're running behind schedule!" Mr Moony said, holding out his wand.

Alice jumped backwards as the purple bus appeared inches from her. The doors opened and a young woman jumped out.

"Names Tonks, I'll be your conductor for the day! Where are you looking to go?" she woman asked as her hair went from lime green to a hot pink.

"King's Cross station, as quick as possible; we are late!" Mr. Moony replied.

"Well, this is the best place for quick transport, mister! That'll be 4 sickles each!" the woman said, hair bouncing between neon colors.

Alice dug through her money bag, and gave Tonks 8 sickles. Mr. Moony went to protest, but she kicked him, and he closed his mouth.

"Thanks, take a seat wherever you choose" Tonks said, before sitting in the seat Stan had occupied on Alice's last trip.

She and Mr. Moony found three open seats in the middle of the bus, and Padfoot immediately jumped into the armchair, tongue lolling. Alice shook her head, but took the chair next to him, holding onto her trunk. She heard Mr. Moony chuckle, and looked at him

"What?"

"I'll cast a sticking charm on your trunk so you don't need to hold onto it" he explained, making a jabbing motion, and a flick with his wand.

Alice thanked him, and they were off. Like her last trip on the bus, everything was jolted every which way, and by the end of the ride she was certain she had whiplash.

"Here we are, Kings Cross Station, might want to hurry though; its almost 11 now!"

Mr. Moony lifted her trunk, and Alice grabbed Hedwig and Whistled for Padfoot. They leapt from the bus and ran through the station not stopping till they reached the platform.

"I'll see you when we reach Hogwarts, Alice, we can talk then!" Mr. Moony shouted and before Alice could respond he had been swept away by the crowd. Alice battled her way towards the train, and Levitated her trunk into one of the luggage racks. Then, a familiar shade of Red caught her eye, and telling Padfoot to guard the compartment, she dashed off. Ginny, who had always been very shy around Alice, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw her, perhaps because she had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red and muttered "hello" without looking at her. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Alice had never met and said, "Alice. How nice to see you."

"Hello, Percy," said Alice, trying not to laugh.

"I hope you're well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

"Very well, thanks —"

"Alice!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply _splendid _to see you, old girl —"

"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Alice's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled.  
"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.  
"Mum!" said Fred, as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand, too. "How really corking to see you —"  
"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley"Hello, Alice, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.

"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.  
"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.  
"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy loftily. "I need to go, the Heads are required to meat before the prefects."  
He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

"We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he told Alice. "But Mum spotted us."

Alice ducked her head to hide her laughter. The twins said their goodbye's and dashed off to the train. Ron and Hermione were with Lavender, but Alice could feel Hermione's curiosity burning into her. She went to hide in the train, but a pair of angry voices distracted her. A second later, she recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys'. She hesitated, not wanting them to know she'd heard them arguing, when the sound of her own name made him stop, then move closer to the pair.

"...makes no sense not to tell her," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Alice's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Alice like a child. She's thirteen years old and —"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify her!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "Do you really want to send Alice back to school with that hanging over her? For heaven's sake, she ran off at the possibility of trouble with the ministry. Who knows what kind of irresponsible thing she'd do next! And anyway, she's _happy _not knowing!"

"I don't want to make her miserable, I want to put her on her guard!" retorted Mr. Weasley. "You know what Alice and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they've even ended up in the Forbidden Forest! But Alice mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to her these past weeks! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked her up, I would have thought she was _dead_!"

"But she's _not _dead, she's fine, so what's the point —"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet_, we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after —"

"But Alice will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Alice —"

There was a thud on metal, and Alice was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the train.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Blacks been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'They're at Hogwarts...They're at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Alice dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Alice will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Alice stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that..."

There was a silence. Alice crept still closer, ducking behind families to avoid being seen.

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Alice at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that...but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Alice —"

"– then I will never say another word against them," said Mr. Weasley wearily. "It's late, Molly, we'd best finish our goodbyes"

So Sirius Black was after her. This explained everything. McGonagall had been lenient with her because she was so relieved to hear she was alive.

Alice stood listening to the conversations around her and wondered why she didn't feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obviously thought Alice would be panic-stricken if she knew the truth. But Alice had already kept herself safe in what was considered to be the one dark location in Magical Britain. Obviously he couldn't be that much of a threat if he hadn't found her by now! And anyways, Alice happened to agree wholeheartedly with Mrs. Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be. Didn't people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black, as Voldemort's right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him?

And then there were these Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around the school, Black's chances of getting inside seemed very remote.

No, all in all, the thing that bothered Alice most was the fact that her chances of escaping everyone were slim to zero. Nobody would want to leave Alice on her own until Black was caught; in fact, Alice suspected her every move would be carefully watched after her disappearing act this summer.

She scowled at the stone ceiling. Did they realize she could look after herself? She'd escaped Lord Voldemort three times, taken care of herself without being discovered for half the summer; she wasn't completely useless...

Alice's brooding was interrupted by Mr. Weasley as he called her name.

"Alice! I need to tell you something!" he called, stopping in front of her.

"I already know" she said, and answered his next question "I just overheard you and Mrs. Weasley, but I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!"

Mr. Weasley looked shocked.

"Well, that was unexpected," he wiped his bald spot with a handkerchief "but I guess it makes things easier. Just promise me something then, all right?"

Alice nodded, surprised by his sudden seriousness. The tension was palpable.

"Whatever you hear, you won't go looking for Black. I don't wan't to hear it! I just need your word" he said, interrupting her half-formed protest.

"OK, I promise." She said, shaking his hand.

Mr. Weasley looked relieved, and opened his mouth as if to say something else when suddenly Mrs Weasley was there, hugging Alice so tightly that she could feel her still-healing ribs protest. Luckily, Mrs Weasley let go before she could re-fracture anything. Alice resisted the urge to collapse, and tried to focus on what Mrs Weasley was saying

"-n't think that I've forgotten that stunt you pulled this summer young lady! I don't know what was running through your mind! Running away was completely irresponsible, and if you ever do anything like that again you will be in serious trouble!"

Alice had to resist the urge to argue, because she knew Mrs Weasley was wrong.

"Now, you need to get on that train before it leaves, though if it were up to me you wouldn't be getting off scot-free! If we had more time, you and I would be having a talk, now go on that train, and for Merlin's sake, stay out of trouble, girl!" Alice flinched at being called girl, but forced herself to nod, say a rushed goodbye to Mr. Weasley and run for the train.

Alice was a few meters away when the train let out a sharp whistle, and Alice forced herself to sprint towards Fred and George who were holding a door open for her. She jumped, and heard gasps as the twins pulled her on board. The three fell to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs.

"Merlin, Ali, I knew you were a procrastinator but this is pushing it, even for us!" Fred panted out.

"Yeah, Gred, well said" George said

"Indeed, Forge, thank you"

Alice winced as her ribs creaked. She would need to get the twins help.

"Hey, twin-a-likes" she wheezed.

They immediately stopped their banter, and looked at Alice, concerned.

"You all right little snake?" George asked.

Alice shook her head, both in response to his question and annoyance at their nickname for her.

"What do you need?" Fred asked, kneeling in front of her.

"The usual, guys... Ribs this time" Alice said, trying not to move too much.

Fred nodded, looking at George who closed and locked the compartment door, conjuring curtains for it. Alice went to start unbuttoning her shirt, but winced when it shifted the rib. Fred swore, and started unbuttoning it for her, cheeks red.

"You would think you would be used to this by now, its the third time" she muttered.

George frowned, and said

"Yes, well, we are used to it now, but what guy wants to see his little sister shirtless? Especially to heal what her own bloody family did to her! You haven't even been there for over a month! How can you still be hurt?"

Alice grimaced

"I was healing fine, but your mum..." she trailed off quietly.

Fred shook his head, finishing her shirt and ushering George to his place.

"Damn it!" He cursed, and punched the door, fist going through the window.

Fred swore again when he saw the shocked faces of Ron and Hermione outside the compartment, eyes focused on Georger, who was trying to unhook Alice's bra.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Ron roared, startling George and Alice, making Alice moan with pain, having jumped at Ron's shout.

Fred shushed Ron and Hermione, and ushered them into the compartment, before fixing and re-locking the door.

"Well, im waiting?" Ron said impatiently.

Hermione was beet red, and looking away from George and Alice.

"Hold on!" George said angrily, and faced Fred "Can you get this? I can't"

Fred nodded, and moved with a practiced ease to switch with George.

"Can you control your hormones for two minutes while you explain whats happening here?" Ron requested, voice still raised.

Alice watched George cast a silencing charm on the compartment, before turning to Ron, frustrated. Ron didn't give him the chance to speak, picking up Alice's tie and throwing it at her. She whimpered as pain seared through her chest, and started coughing, leaning forward, then letting out a small scream. Everyone paled, looking at the scarlet on her chin.

"What's happening? Is Alice okay?" Hermione asked

Alice coughed again, and the red dribbled onto her shirt. The twins ignored them, George waving his wand in a motion she didn't recognize. Alice's vision went black as they laid her back on the bench.

"Come on Little Serpent, time to wake up now" she heard a voice saying. Alice groaned, curling into the warmth.

"I dun wanna wake up, Freddie" she muttered.

"Little Sis, Much as I love you, I think Ron is uncomfortable."

"Why?" she murmured, trying to turn her head away from the light.

"Because, you dont have a shirt on Ali-bear" George supplied.

That jolted Alice awake and she immediately covered herself, turning into Fred's chest.

"Bloody Hell, why didn't anyone tell me?" She asked, ignoring Hermione's reprimand 'Language!'

"We tried to!" Fred protested, handing her clothes over.

Alice immediately dressed, and, cheeks red said

"Thanks boys, i owe you one" and hugged each before standing.

"We explained"

"Everything to these"

"Two, and now we"

"Need to find Lee"

Then the twins opened the door and left.

Alice blushed as Ron and Hermione turned their eyes to her.

"Why don't we go back to your compartment, i have loads to tell you" she said, leading the way.

"Okay, but just a warning there's a random dog in their, Ronald nearly had a heart attack, thought it was a Grim" Hermione answered.

"Oh, you guys saw Padfoot? Don't worry, he won't hurt you."

"He's yours? But that's against the rules! You'll be in trouble before we even get there!" Hermione cried.

"Oh, relax Hermione! I'm sure Alice has permission, right Ali?" Ron asked

"Of course I do! Oh, and Hermione? Ron was right, Padfoot _is _a Grim" Alice said cheerfully as they entered the compartment.


	6. Chapter 6

Alice said cheerfully as they entered the compartment.

Padfoot leapt at her and barked, as if scolding her for being gone so long. She apologized, and began petting him as he lay on the bench. A quick look around, and Alice started. In the compartment corner, obviously fake-sleeping, was Mr. Moony!

"That's Professor R. J. Lupin." whispered Hermione at once.  
"How'd you know that?"  
"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters. Alice hid the hurt that seared through her. Why did he lie? Yes, she had too, but she had a reason! Maybe he did as well, a voice nagged.

"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

There had been a different Defense teacher Alice's past two years, and if Fred and George were to be believed, every year they had attended as well.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway..." he turned to Alice, "what were you going to tell us?"

Alice explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Wesley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given her. When she'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after _you_? Oh, Alice...you'll have to be really, really careful. don't go looking for trouble, Alice..."

"I don't go looking for trouble," said Alice, nettled. "Trouble usually finds _me_.""How thick would Alice have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill her?" said Ron shakily.

They were taking the news worse than Alice had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than she was.

"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said Hermione earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too..."

"What's that noise?" said Ron suddenly.

A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment.

"It's coming from your trunk, Alice," said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Alice's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a _Sneakoscope_?" said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah...mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Alice."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" said Hermione shrewdly.

"No! Well...I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys...but how else was I supposed to get Alice's present to her?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Alice advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

She nodded toward Mr. Mo-Professor Lupin. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," said Ron, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain —"

"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way. "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" said Hermione.

"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got _everything_...Pepper Imps — they make you smoke at the mouth — and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next–"

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In _Sites of Historical Sorcery _it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain —"

"– and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked around at Alice.  
"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"  
"'Spect it will," said Alice heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."  
"What d'you mean?" said Ron.  
"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either."  
Ron looked horrified.  
"_You're not allowed to come_? But—no way—McGonagall or someone will give you permission—" Alice gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, was very strict.  
"– or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle —"  
"Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "I don't think Alice should be sneaking out of the school with Black on the loose —"  
"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask for permission," said Alice bitterly. "But if _we're _with her," said Ron spiritedly to Hermione. "Black wouldn't dare —"  
"Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish," snapped Hermione. "Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street, do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Alice just because _we're _there?"

She was fumbling with the straps of a large whicker basket as she spoke.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; something huge and orange leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved the enormous ginger cat angrily away.

"Get out of it!"  
"Ron, don't!" said Hermione angrily.

Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

Alice looked pointedly between the two, then at Mr. Moony. 'No, Professor Lupin!' she mentally corrected herself.

"What is that?" she asked, looking incredulously at the thing which, had it not been for the fur could easily have been a small tiger.

"Crookshanks, my cat. I got him this summer. Isn't he _gorgeous_?" Hermione boasted.

Alice looked at the cat. Crookshanks was large, orange and bow-legged, with a rather smushed face as though he had run hard into a brick wall. Trying to avoid snorting at the image, Alice grabbed at Padfoot's neck, as he shot up, growling at the other animals.

"No, Pads, NO!" she reprimanded, looking down at him. Padfoot whined, and tried to get at Scabbers.

"Bloody Hell! What is wrong with these animals?" Ron shouted, shoving Scabbers into his pocket and holding his hands protectively over it.

Padfoot sat back at the sight, still growling.

"Whats wrong boy?" Alice asked; Padfoot never growled at other animals.

He whined and pawed at the cushion, before laying down, his head nudging into Alice's lap. Her hand automatically drifted down to pet him, used to the motion.

It seemed the silence reminded Hermione of why she was so focused on the platform.

"Speaking of summer, what on earth did you think you were doing, running away like that? Of all the careless, irresponsible things to do! And now knowing that Black s after you! What if he had found you, hm? You would be dead! And you didn't even try to get in touch with us, or tell us what was happening! Do you have any idea how worried i was when I heard? How worried Ron was? Do you ever think anything through? And what about your family, hm? They must have been worried sick! Ho-" Hermione fell silent at Alice's snort.

"Worried? The Dursleys, worried, about me?" As if! What world do you live on, hm? Did you listen to a single thing the twins told you? Obviously not! If you had, you would know the Dursleys would never have been worried about me, unless they thought i might tell! They probably threw a party to celebrate my disappearance!" Alice finished chest heaving.

Hermione's eyes flashed, and her face reddened with anger.

"It was obviously a misunderstanding! You just overreacted, and-" Ron stopped her, looking at Hermione with horrified eyes.

"You think I overreacted, eh?" Alice whispered "It was only a misunderstanding?" she purred, voice cold and sharp, eyes dead.

"I understood everything. Every. Single. Word. Uncle Vernon, stop, please, I'm sorry." Alice's eyes were glazed over, she was rocking herself, her voice emotionless.

"I warned you, freak, if you ever threatened Dudley you would regret it!" Her voice was harsher during these words.

Ron and Hermione were so entranced, none of them noticed Mr. Moony opening his eyes and looking at the scene with horror.

"No, I'm sorry, please, please! I didn't do an-" Her voice cut off, and her breath hitched with a sob "No, God, no, please not that! I'll be good, I promise! I won't burn anything, Please!" Alice voice broke and she seemed to crumble.

Hermione reached her hand out to touch her shoulder, but Alice flinched away, eyes clearing. Mr. Moony watched as emotions flashed across her face; horror, shame, anger, fear, hatred, before finally settling on a cold emptiness that frightened him. Before he could move to stop her, Alice turned on her heel and fled out the compartment, Padfoot loping behind her.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened overhead. People were chasing backwards and forwards past the door of their compartment. Alice had now settled in an empty seat, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, arms wrapped around around herself, face pressed into Padfoot's shaggy coat.

At one o'clock the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.

"Anything off the trolley..." Her voice trailed off as she stared at the girl "Dear, are you all right?"

Alice didn't respond.

"Deary, do you need help?" the witch asked, concern growing.

Still Alice didn't respond, face pressed against Padfoot. The witch looked conflicted, and reached out to touch her, but Alice flinched out of the way, beginning to rock again. The witch gasped as the girl seemed to blur before her, letting out a terrified whimper before turning back to the dog. The witch closed the compartment, and hurried to fetch a teacher. The girl needed help, that much was obvious.

The train started to slow down just as she reached the compartment she remembered seeing the new Defense Professor in.

"Great," said a red haired boy, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm worried. I want to go find Alice..."

"We can't be there yet," said a girl with bushy brown hair, checking her watch.  
"So why're we stopping?"  
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.  
The witch tried to ignore it, and pushed open the compartment door, looking to the sleeping man.

"Professor?" she asked, shaking him awake.

"What is it?" he asked, immediately alert.

"I need you to come with me" the witch said, avoiding explaining in front of the curious students.

The man nodded, and followed her out, shutting the compartment door behind them.

Back in the empty compartment, Alice noticed the silence and got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told her that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and she were plunged into total darkness.

Alice felt her way back to her seat.  
"D'you think we've broken down?"  
"Dunno..."

Alice listened to the confused conversations around her. Wiping a patch clean on the window with a squeaking sound, and peering out., Alice saw something moving. Maybe people are coming aboard... she thought to herself, not truly caring. The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Alice's legs. "Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry —"  
"Hullo, Neville," said Alice, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak. "Alice? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea! Sit down —"  
There was a loud growl and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Padfoot.  
Alice heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain. "Who's that?"

"Who's _that_?"  
"Ginny?"  
"Alice?"  
"What are you doing?"  
"I was looking for Ron —"  
"Come in and sit down —"  
"Not here!" said Alice hurriedly. "I'm here!" "Ouch!" said Neville.

"Quiet!" said Alice suddenly.  
"Stay where you are." she said in the same hoarse voice, and she got slowly to her feet with her wand held out in front of her.

But the door slid slowly open before Alice could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, darker than the pitch surrounding them, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Alice's eyes darted downward, and what she saw made her stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water...

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Alice's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Alice felt her own breath catch in her chest. The cold went deeper than her skin. It was inside her chest, it was inside her very heart...

Alice's eyes rolled up into her head. She couldn't see. She was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in her ears like water. She was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder...

And then, from far away, she heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. She wanted to help whoever it was, she tried to move her arms, but couldn't...a thick white fog was swirling around her, inside her... ripping something inherently her away—

"Alice! Alice! Are you all right?"  
Something was licking her face.  
"W-what?"  
Alice opened her eyes; there were lanterns above her, and the floor was shaking — the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. She seemed to have slid out of her seat onto the floor. Padfoot, Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to her, and above them she could see Neville and Mr Moony watching. Alice felt very sick; when she put up her hand to push her glasses back on, she felt cold sweat on her face.

Ron and Hermione lifted her back onto her seat.  
"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.  
"Yeah," said Alice, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What

happened? Where's that — that thing? Who screamed?" "No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.

Alice looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at her, both very pale.

"But I heard screaming —"

A loud snap made them all jump. Mr Moony was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Alice, handing her a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."  
Alice took the chocolate but didn't eat it.  
"What was that thing?" she asked him.  
"A Dementor," said Mr Moony, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."  
Everyone stared at him. Mr Moony crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.  
"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me..."  
He strolled past Alice and disappeared into the corridor.  
"Are you sure you're okay, Alice?" said Hermione, watching Alice anxiously.  
"I don't get it...what happened?" said Alice, wiping more sweat off her face.  
"Well — that thing — the Dementor — stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) — and you — you —"  
"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching—"  
"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away..."

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again..."

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Alice felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.

"But didn't any of you — fall off your seats?" said Alice awkwardly.  
"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Alice again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though..."

Alice didn't understand. She felt weak and shivery, as though she were recovering from a bad bout of flu; she also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had she gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know..."

Alice took a bite and to her great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of her fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Alice?"  
"Fine," she muttered, embarrassed.  
They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey, Alice remembering why she had run off, and Hermione appearing very uncomfortable. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Alice, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All right, you three?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Alice, Padfoot, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Alice could only assume, by an invisible- _thestrals_

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Alice felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at her sideways, as though frightened she might collapse again, and Padfoot was crouched in front of her, looking unusually protective.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Alice saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf her again; she leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed her eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out.

As Alice stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in her ear.  
"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottorn telling the truth? You actually fainted?"  
Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Alice's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.  
"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron, whose jaw was clenched.  
"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"  
"Is there a problem?" said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage. Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. Padfoot jumped forward and began growling menacingly at the blonde. With a tiny hint of fear in his voice, he said, "Oh, no—er—_Professor_," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle, looking back at Padfoot.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Alice followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"

Alice and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Alice fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making her feel she must have done something wrong.

"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," she told them. "Move along there, Weasley."

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Alice and Hermione away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.

Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Alice and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter."

Before Alice could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in.

Alice felt herself going red in the face. It was bad enough that she'd passed out, or whatever she had done, without everyone making all this fuss.

"I'm fine," she said, "I don't need anything —"

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring this and bending down to stare closely at her. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?" Padfoot gave a growl at the word dangerous, and nipped Alice's foot.

"Ow! Hey, it wasn't my fault, Pads!" she pouted, before giving into the puppy eyes and scratching behind the Grimm's ears.

"It was a Dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.  
They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.  
"Setting Dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Alice's hair and feeling her forehead. "She won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, she's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —"

"I'm not delicate!" said Alice crossly.  
"Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking her pulse.  
"What does she need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should she perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"  
"I'm _fine_!" said Alice, jumping up. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if she had to go to the hospital wing was torture.  
"Well, she should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Alice's eyes.  
"I've already had some," said Alice. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us." "Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"  
"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.  
"Yes," said Alice.  
"Hm. Madame Pomfrey, kindly wait outside my office with Miss Potter while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to Hospital Wing together."  
Alice went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, pouting annoyed. Padfoot gave a bark that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Oh, sure, laugh all you want Pads, but while we're down there you're getting a check up too!" she threatened, grinning evilly at Padfoot's pleading whine.

Madame Pomfrey chuckled at the interaction, finding herself curious about the girls unusual pet. They had to wait only a few minutes; then Hermione emerged looking very happy about something, followed by Professor McGonagall, and the four of them split, Hermione making her way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall, Alice being escorted up to the Hospital Wing on the fourth floor.

Alice let the familiar warmth of Hogwarts wash over her, and thought that if she had ever had a mother, it would have felt similar to being sent to be early. The familiar hallways comforted her, and Alice sighed contentedly. "Home" she whispered too soft for the older women to hear. Even entering the white Hospital Wing couldn't take away her peace, although being poked ad prodded did lessen it. Eventually, Alice curled up in the bed, Padfoot sleeping next to her, and drifted off to the soothing motion of running her hands through Padfoot's coat.

**AN: sorry for the delay, im a 17 yr old who decided to do her senior year of high school and freshman year of college at the same time... aka im an idiot lol :) luckily i now have loads of time so yay updates!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:look, a present! its twice as long as my usual chapters :D and two updates in one day... maybe three ;)**

Alice was gently woken by Madame Pomfrey, who had somehow (maybe it was magic, she snipped to herself) gathered her uniform, and book bag. After a quick once over, the mediwitch sent her off with a refilling thermos of hot cocoa. Halfway down the marble staircase, Alice was ambushed my four worried Gryffindors. She had to call Padfoot away from the twins, and reassure them that no, they were not going to die, but yes, he was a Grimm.

"Honestly, I'm fine!" she insisted for the fifth time as the twins insisted on carrying her bag.

"Yes, so fine that you had to spend the night in the Hospital Wing" George chided "You're our little" Fred continued "Sister, it's our job"George, "to be over"

"protective of me blah-blah-blah."Alice finished, frowning, before smiling sheerily up at the two redheads.

"Mate, you should have seen Smapes face when he realized you weren't at the feast last night!" Ron started.

"Yeah, Alice, he actually looked worried for a minute!" Hermione added, smiling hopefully at Alice.

Alice smiled, and nodded at the girl "Snape? Worried? Nah, he probably heard that i didn't get eaten by the great squid and was brokenhearted.

When Alice, Ron, and Hermione finally entered the Great Hall for breakfast the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," said Hermione, who was right behind Alice. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it..."

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! _Woooooooooo_!"

Alice dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to Katie Bell.

"New third-year course schedules," said Katie, passing them, over. "What's up with you, Alice?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on Alice's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table. Katie looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.  
"That little git," she said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"  
"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.  
"I wasn't too happy myself," said Katie, glancing wistfully at George. "They're horrible things, those Dementors..."  
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.  
"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Alice in a quiet voice.  
"Forget it, Alice," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking...They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Katie. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

The only time Alice and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, Alice helped herself to sausages and fried tomatoes.

Hermione was examining her new schedule.  
"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.  
"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look — they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time_."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And —" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "_look_— underneath that, Arithmancy, _nine o'clock_. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's _that _good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well then —"  
"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.  
"But —"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everthin' ready...hope it'sokay...me, a teacher...hones'ly..."

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.  
"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.  
The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson. Ron checked his

schedule.  
"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get

there..."  
They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred, George and Katie,(Alice winked knowingly at Katie) and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Alice into the Entrance Hall.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's — got — to — be — a — short — cut," Ron panted, as they climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.  
"Can't be," said Ron. "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window..."

Alice was watching the painting. A fat, dappled-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Alice was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit each other, but she always enjoyed watching them. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Alice, Ron and Hermione. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

"Are you all right?" said Alice, moving closer to the picture.  
"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"  
The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Listen," said Alice, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sir and gentle ladies! On! On!"

And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly, Alice, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

Alice giggled with Hermione as they climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Alice and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

"'Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher,'" Alice read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to her question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Alice's feet. Everyone got quiet. Alice looked worriedly at Padfoot, who flopped lazily in a patch of sunshine, going to sleep.

"After you," said Ron, grinning, so Alice climbed the ladder first.

She emerged into the strangest-looking classroom she had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at Alice's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers. "Where is she?" Ron said.  
A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.  
"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Alice's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Alice, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you...Books can take you only so far in this field..."

At these words, both Alice and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading — it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future_. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear," — she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind...thank you..."

When Alice and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Alice. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making her feel sleepy and stupid.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.

Alice tried to pull herself together.

"Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross..." She consulted _Unfogging the Future_, but the words looked ridiculous. Frowning Alice snapped the book shut, and looked bak at Ron's cup. "That means you're going to loose something you hold dear, but theres also a sun, so in the end you'll be thankful for it, because it was never truly yours in the beginning." "You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," said Ron, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

"My turn..." Ron peered into Alice's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. "There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat," he said. "Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic..."

He turned the teacup the other way up.

"But this way it looks more like an acorn...what's that?" He scanned his copy of _Unfogging the Future_. "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some. And there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal...yeah, if that was its head...it looks like a hippo...no, a sheep..."

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Alice let out a snort of laughter.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Alice's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.  
"The falcon...my dear, you have a deadly enemy."  
"But everyone knows _that_," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her. "Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Alice and You-Know-Who."  
Alice and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never

heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Alice's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club...an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup..."  
"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.  
"The skull...danger in your path, my dear..."  
Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.  
There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor

Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.  
"My dear girl — my poor dear girl — no — it is kinder not to say — no — don't ask me..." "What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Alice and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Alice's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."  
"Seriously?" said Alice.  
She could tell that she was the only one who understood, but was unconcerned; Dean Thomas shrugged at her and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Alice apparently hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear child, it is an omen — the worst omen — of _death_!"

Alice couldn't believe how seriously everyone was taking this. Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Alice, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

"No kidding, Mione! I think it looks exactly like Pads!" Alice said, trying to contain her laughter.  
Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.  
"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."  
Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.  
"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.  
"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" said Alice, taking even herself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at her.  
"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice.

"Yes...please pack away your things..."  
Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and

closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Alice's eyes.  
"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear,"

— she pointed at Neville, "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up." Alice, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.  
Alice chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though she were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at her, as though she were about to drop dead at any moment. She began twining her fingers in Padfoot's thick fur, feeling the sensation calm her down. She hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint _pop_, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Alice again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.  
"Me," said Alice, finally, feeling Padfoot stiffen under her hand.  
"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Alice with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybil Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —" Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney..."

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed. Alice felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.

"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Alice," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You _haven't _seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Alice. "In case you've forgotten he's also been living with me for over a month!" Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.  
"See, its not true." said Hermione calmly.  
Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Alice's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," he said. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Alice's still with us because she's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly.

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Alice it was a sheep," said Hermione coolly.

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stalked away.  
Ron frowned after her.  
"What's she talking about?" he said to Alice. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

Alice was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Alice walked between them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when she spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that she realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Alice was quite sure she knew what they were talking about. Trying to ignore the taunts, Alice held her head high.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boar-hound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one nasty moment, Alice thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Alice had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last her a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it — make sure yeh can see— now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.  
"Eh?" said Hagrid.  
"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of _The Monster Book of_ _Monsters_, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Alice, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' — hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.  
The class all shook their heads. Alice looked around confused then nodded. Hagrid looked relieved.  
"You've got ter _stroke _them," she said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Look —"  
She took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite her, but Alice ran an elegant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in her hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I — I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Alice quietly. Hagrid was looking downcast and Alice wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so — so yeh've got yer books an'...an'...now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on..."

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him —"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Alice repeated.  
"Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you —"  
"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock. Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Alice had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone, even Padfoot, drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Alice could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the Hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer..."

No one seemed to want to. Alice, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Alice had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"Right — who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Alice, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings. The Hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.  
"I'll do it," said Alice.  
There was an intake of breath from behind her, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered,

"Oooh, no, Alice, remember your tea leaves!"  
Alice ignored them. She climbed over the paddock fence.  
"Good man, Alice!" roared Hagrid. "Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."  
He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy now, Alice," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink...Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much..."

Alice's eyes immediately began to water, but she didn't shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Alice with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Alice...now, bow."

Exposing the back of her neck to Buckbeak, went against every instinct the Dursley's had beaten into her, but she did as she was told. She gave a short bow and then looked up.

The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at her. It didn't move.  
"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right — back away, now, Alice, easy does it —"  
But then, to Alice's enormous surprise, the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.  
"Well done, Alice!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right — yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Alice moved slowly toward the Hippogriff and reached out toward it. She patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Alice," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

This was more than Alice had bargained for. She was used to a broomstick; but she wasn't sure a Hippogriff would be quite the same.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..."

Alice put her foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted herself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up. Alice wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of her was covered with feathers.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Alice, she just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before she was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Alice knew which one she preferred; the Hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of her, catching her under her legs and making her feel she was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under her fingers and she didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of her Nimbus Two Thousand, she now felt herself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the Hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

Buckbeak flew her once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Alice had been dreading; she leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling she was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. She just managed to hold on and push herself straight again.

"Good work, Alice!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Alice's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Alice watched.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Alice to, hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it...I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Alice saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should sack him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly. Alice suddenly remembered leaving the paddock gate open. "Damn!" She muttered and turned back towards Hagrid's hut before anyone could say a word. Racing across the green lawns, with Padfoot loping in front of her, Alice felt at peace for the first time all day. She slowed her pace as The paddock came into view, and Padfoot dropped behind her, following close to her heels. There was Buckbeak, blocking the gate, looking quite anxious.

"Shh, shh." Alice raised her hands, hopefully looking peaceful "I'm not here to hurt you, Boy. I just realized that no one closed the gate... I would hate for Hagrid to get into more trouble.

The Hippogriff's fierce orange eyes met Alice's emerald green, and she watched entranced as the orange seemed to flicker like fire.

"Wicked" she breathed, looking curiously into the dancing eyes. Buckbeak bowed, and Alice bowed back, before approaching the majestic creature.

"You are beautiful, aren't you boy. The Hippogriff made a noise somewhere between a chirp and a purr.

Alice laughed cheerfully, eyes never leaving Buckbeak's. Slowly she backed Buckbeak into the paddock, and closed the gate, locking it. Buckbeak nodded to her, before trotting towards the roan, nuzzling its neck. Alice smiled, and turned back to Padfoot who had his head cocked to one side, one ear straight in the air. She couldn't contain her laughter at the human expression, and had to catch her breath before dashing back to the castle.

Alice saw Ron and Hermione waiting for her at the great stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

Alice ran towards them and looked at their expressions.

"You think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously.

"Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Alice, who had had far worse injuries mended magically by the nurse.

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him..."

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and- kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either.

Alice was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Alice was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.

They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all three of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Alice said suddenly.  
Ron looked at his watch.  
"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early..."  
"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Alice saw her glance at her.  
"I'm allowed to walk across the _grounds_," she said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the Dementors yet, has he?"  
So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren't entirely sure they were supposed to be out.  
The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When they reached Hagrid's hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."  
Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.

"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized them. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasped Hermione.

"Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But's only a matter o' time, I'n't, after Malfoy..."

"How is he?" said Ron as they all sat down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could," said Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony...covered in bandages...moanin'..."

"He's faking it," said Alice at once. "Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."

"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left Hippogriffs fer later...one flobberworms or summat...Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson's all my fault..."

"It's all _Malfoy's _fault, Hagrid!" said Hermione earnestly.

"We're witnesses," said Alice. "You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."

"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," said Ron.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Alice and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ah, maybe she's right," said Hagrid, letting go of Alice and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash.

"What's he done?" said Alice nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard. "Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away.  
Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.  
"That's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all. "Listen, it was good

of yeh ter come an' see me, I really —"  
Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Alice as though he'd only just realized she was there.  
"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a

foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, Alice! AN, YOU TWO! LETTIN' HER!"

Hagrid strode over to Alice, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to the door.

"C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"


	8. Chapter 8

The three Gryffindors were marched back to the Castle, and instead of the Common Room, as they expected, Hagrid took them straight to Professor McGonagall's office. Ron and Hermione looked confused; in the past Hagrid had sent them straight to the tower, never to a teacher. Alice understood, though; after she had ran away that summer it would be a long time before anyone treated her the same. She looked at her feet, angry with herself for forgetting. 'I know things are different this year! Why didn't i realize that included Hagrid? I'm such an idiot... Ron and Hermione will be so angry, and the teachers! Mr. Moony will be so disappointed!' The creak of a door opening interrupted Alice mental rant. Professors McGonagall and Moony stood there, and Alice watched helplessly as McGonagall's lips thinned, and her face whitened. Yet she found herself focussing on the betrayal in Professor Moony's eyes. She automatically curled inwards, trying to make herself small as possible. 'less skin to hit' her mind added. Alice shuffled in after Hagrid, Ron and Hermione on either side. The door slammed behind them, and the three jumped, before everything seemed much worse. Standing there was none other than Snape, Potions Master extraordinair, and Alice worst tormentor at Hogwarts. She forced herself to stand up straight, and meet the cold black eyes without fear. She would not be afraid here. She was home, and Mr. Moony wouldn't let anyone hurt her-would he? She wondered... They hadn't really spoken since he used her real name, what if he didn't care anymore? She wouldn't blame him... She was only a useless freak, couldn't even die properly. Who would want to protect her?

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Snape asked, gliding towards her "Three students out of bed in the first week, my, my, Minerva, what a disgrace" His cold black eyes seemed to focus on Alice as he said this.

Alice felt her eyes water, but fought back the tears, refusing to let him see how he effected her. Professor McGonagall interrupted the staring contest that had begun,

"Ms. Potter! I thought you understood the danger of going out on the grounds at night! And, you, Ms Granger, you are more responsible then this! Weasley, I expect more from you." McGonagall paused, breathing deeply, lips still white, "You will each have to serve detention, and i will be taking 50 points from Gryffindor"

Alice's heart sank. Merlin, she hoped this wouldn't be like first year.

"Fifty?" Ron asked, outraged.

Alice wanted to hit her head against the wall as she saw McGonagall's glasses flash. It was going to be exactly like first year.

"Each. No arguments, from any of you! Especially you, Ms. Potter, after this summer I would have expected more of you than this. Severus, please escort these three back to Gryffindor tower. Hagrid, thank you very much for your assistance." With that, McGonagall herded the four from her office, and the door closed with a resounding "clunk". Alice was horrified by the look in Mr. Moony's eyes. It was the same look Professor Dumbledore had after she and Ron flew the car into the Whomping Willow. Alice swallowed thickly, holding back tears.

"Good to see Minerva knows how to handle troublemakers." Snape stated, as he began stalking toward the tower. The trio followed him with heavy hearts.

Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Alice's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Alice saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away, and felt disgust roll in her stomach. She couldn't stand Parkinson, but the way Malfoy played her was just cruel.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.

Alice and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said 'settle down' if _they'd _walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others. And Alice had learnt last year that Malfoy was Snape's Godson, which may be why he was favored above all others.

Immersed in her thoughts, Alice turned back to her and Ron's potion. They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Alice and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table (the other Gryffindor's were avoiding them because of the points). Alice and Ron exchanged suspicious looks, agreeing to keep an eyes on the blonde ponce.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —" "Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.  
Ron went brick red.  
"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked across the table.  
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."  
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.  
"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."  
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.  
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."  
"But, sir —!"  
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal

pieces.  
"_Now_," said Snape in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving Alice the look of loathing he always reserved just for her.

Alice took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Alice skinned the shrivelfig as fast as she could without destroying it, and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.  
"None of your business," said Ron jerkily, without looking up.  
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury —"  
"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.  
"– he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" — he gave a huge, fake sigh — "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," said Alice, using the emotionless mask she had perfected with the Dursleys,"To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "_partly_, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned —

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see.

"Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one cat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. "Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right -"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. Alice hissed in anger. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.  
"Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.  
"Hey, Alice," said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Alice's brass scales, Alice was surprised he was talking to her, "have you heard? _Daily Prophet _this morning — they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."  
"Where?" said Alice and Ron quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely.  
"Not too far from here," said Seamus, who looked excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him.

'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here..." Ron repeated, looking significantly at Alice. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. "What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"

But Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed Alice. He leaned across the table.

"Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"  
"Yeah, that's right, I'm going to go after an insane murderer, because my two years at Hogwarts have obviously prepared me to capture him" said Alice offhandedly.  
Malfoy's thin mouth was curving in a mean smile.  
"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good little girl, I'd be out there looking for him." "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" said Ron roughly.  
"Don't you _know_, Potter?" breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. "No, no-one told me, because it's so unimportant!" Alice snapped sarcastically.

Malfoy scowled, before smirking.

"So you'd rather not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"_Well, that's the difference between you and me, I obviously have a brain, you on the other hand..._" Alice let the sentence trail off, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn't

see. Alice and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.

"What did Malfoy mean?" Alice muttered to Ron checking the slytherin was out of hearing range "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me — yet."

"He's making it up," said Ron savagely as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth "He's trying to make you do something stupid..."  
The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small _pop_, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into victorious applause, Alice patting the trembling Neville on the back. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Alice, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Alice was still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was seething about Snape.

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"

Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around.  
"Where is she?"  
Alice turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.  
"She was right behind us," said Ron, frowning.  
Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Alice and disappeared. "There she is," said Alice.  
Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.

"How did you do that?" said Ron.  
"What?" said Hermione, joining them.  
"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."  
"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —" A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Alice wasn't surprised; she could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.  
"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.  
"You know how many subjects I'm taking," said Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"  
"But —" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."  
"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.  
"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked Alice.  
Mr. Moony wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Mr. Moony smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had this summer, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," said Mr. Mo-Mr. Moony, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed him out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Mr. Moony was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Mr. Moony to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling. Alice smirked, curious how he'd handle this. Over the summer Alice had discovered that he had a very mischievous sense of humor.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Mr Moony's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Mr. Moony gave a small sigh and took out his wand.  
"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."  
He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "_Waddiwasi!_" and pointed it at Peeves.  
With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.  
"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement.  
"Thank you, Dean," said Mr. Moony, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?" They set off again, the class looking at shabby Mr. Moony with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.  
"Inside, please," said Mr. Moony, opening it and standing back.  
The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Mr. Moony came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Alice glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Mr. Moony had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," said Mr. Moony, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Mr. Moony went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Mr. Moony calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this _was _something to worry about. Neville gave Mr. Moony a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Mr. Moony. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This _one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is _a Boggart?"  
Hermione put up her hand.  
"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Mr. Moony, and Hermione glowed.

"So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. Alice paled.

"This means," said Mr. Moony, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Alice?"

Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to her, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, and unpleasant memories floating through her mind, was very off-putting, but Alice had a go.

"Er — because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," said Mr. Moony, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening." The memory of Mr. Moony sharing that story while they drank hot cocoa interrupted the less pleasant ones.

"The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is _laughter_. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please..._Riddikulus_!"  
"_Riddikulus!_" said the class together.  
"Good," said Mr. Moony. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."  
The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.  
"Right, Neville," said Mr. Moony. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"  
Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.  
"I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Mr. Moony cheerfully.  
Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."  
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Mr. Moony, however, looked thoughtful.  
"Professor Snape...hmmm...Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"  
"Er — yes," said Neville nervously. "But — I don't want the Boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Mr. Moony, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"  
Neville looked startled, but said, "Well...always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress...green, normally...and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."  
"And a handbag?" prompted Mr. Moony.  
"A big red one," said Neville.  
"Right then," said Mr. Moony. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"  
"Yes," said Neville uncertainty, plainly wondering what was coming next.  
"When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry 'Riddikulus' — and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Mr. Moony. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

The room went quiet. Alice thought...What scared her most in the world?

Her first thought was Lord Voldemort — a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before she had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a Boggart-Voldemort, a new horrible image came floating to the surface of her mind...

Uncle Vernon, face red, stone-sober. The man from Candyland, everyone finding out everything. Alice shuddered, and realized that what she probably feared most was a bogart, because it meant everyone would know.

Alice then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off." Alice was sure she knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear was spiders.

"Everyone ready?" said Mr. Moony.

Alice felt a lurch of fear. She wasn't ready. How could you make a Bogart less frightening? She didn't even know what one looked like! But she didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

"Neville, we're going to back away," said Mr. Moony. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward...Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —"

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. Alice frowned at how pale and frightened he looked, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Mr. Moony, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One — two — three —_now_!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Mr. Moony's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

"_R _— _r _— _Riddikulus! _" squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Mr. Moony shouted,

"Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising —

"_Riddikulus!_" cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Mr. Moony.  
Seamus darted past Parvati.  
_Crack_! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floorlength black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face — a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Alice's head stand on end — "_Riddikulus!_" shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

_Crack_! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then —_crack_!- became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before —_crack_! — becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"  
Dean hurried forward.  
_Crack_! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.  
"_Riddikulus!_" yelled Dean.  
There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.  
"Excellent! Ron, you next!"  
Ron leapt forward.  
_Crack_!  
Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly, strongly reminiscent of Aragog. For a moment, Alice thought Ron had frozen. Then — "_Riddikulus!_" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Alice's feet. She raised her wand,

terrified, but —  
"Here!" shouted Mr. Moony suddenly, hurrying forward. _Crack_!

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "_Riddikulus!_" almost lazily.

_Crack_!

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. _Crack_! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

"_Riddikulus!_" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Mr. Moony as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone...Let me see...five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice...and five each to Hermione and Alice."

"But I didn't do anything," said Alice.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Alice," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me...o be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Alice, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Mr. Moony had deliberately stopped her from tackling the Boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Alice collapse on the train, and thought she wasn't up to much? Had he thought Alice would pass out again, or was he ignoring her because of last night? Had he been so angry that he would refuse to even acknowledge her existence now?

No one else seemed to have noticed anything.

"Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus.  
"And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.  
"And Snape in that hat!"  
"And my mummy!"  
"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" said Lavender thoughtfully. Alice grimaced. Mr. Moony's boggart hadn't been a crystal ball, but a full moon, because of his condition. He hadn't told her, of course, but Alice wasn't stupid, only squibs and those connected to so-called 'creatures' lived and worked at that end of the Alley, and Mr. Moony obviously wasn't a squib.  
"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" said Ron excitedly as they made their way back to the classroom to get their bags.  
"He seems like a very good teacher," said Hermione approvingly. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the Boggart —"  
"What would it have been for you?" said Ron, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"

Alice lightly punched Ron in the side, and returned Mione's smile.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi, Im insanely sorry it's been so long, but there is an actual reason! I got a really bad cut on the bottom of my foot, got stitches, ripped my stitches out, the cut got infected, and I got sepsis, for those of you who don't know what that is, it means the infection spread to me blood. So I'm stuck in the hospital, but at least Im finally lucid, yeah? So here's the chapter, sorry if my editing sucks, and for the length, but I'm not all-here right now, mentally. But anyways yeah, heres the chapter!**

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Mr. Moony.

"Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Mr. Moony passed. "He dresses like our old house elf."

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. Each time they covered a new topic, Mr. Moony would obtain a specimen (Alice suspected he got them from one of the shops on Knockturn. The little goblin had amused the Gryffindor's endlessly when, on sight of Crabbe, it had let loose what Mr. Moony identified as the female mating cry. Seamus Finnegan swore up and down he had heard roaring laughter from the room when he passed later that day. From Red Caps they moved on to Kappas, creepy. water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Alice only wished she was as happy with some of her other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the Boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever. Alice had been forced to order Padfoot out of the classroom o more than one occasion, as Snape's hateful eyes turned on her.

Alice was also growing to dread the hours she spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at her. She couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunch times, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Alice, as though she were on her deathbed. Alice assumed she would be far more bothered if it weren't for the fact that Lavender would shriek every time she saw Padfoot. Alice

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone _bother _looking after them?" said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' throats. Alice shrugged, pointedly avoiding the slimy creature. She didn't mind snakes, although she had lost some of her fondness for them after the Basilisk, but flobberworms were horrible. The were a pale off-white color, and about 9 inches long. Alice despised them with a passion. They were so..._slimy._ Alice held back a gag when Ron pulled back a hand covered in the thick mucus-like goo the things secreted. Ron noticed and smirked, moving closer to Alice, instead of the towel he had originally reached for. Alice swallowed, eyes switching between Ron's slimy hand and sneaky expression. When he took a second step towards her, Alice shrieked, and hid behind Seamus, who quickly doubled over in laughter. Alice warily watched Ron, not sure if she wanted to laugh, or scream when he flung the flobberworm at her. Alice dove to the side, and landed on Parvati's flobberworm, which appeared to be the healthiest of the bunch. She felt something oozing onto her, and jumped up, gagging. The flobberworm lay perfectly unharmed in a puddle of mucous like liquid. Alice ripped off her robe, and glared at Ron and Seamus, who were leaning against each other for support.

At the start of October, however, Alice had something else to occupy her, something so enjoyable it more than made up for her unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

There were seven people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Oliver Wood was a handsome seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and still entirely oblivious to girls, much to Alicia Spinnet's disappointment. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance —_my _last chance — to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world — injuries — then the tournament getting called off last year." Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the _best — ruddy — team — in — the — school_," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his grey eyes. "We've got three _superb _Chasers."

Wood pointed at Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell, each of whom elbowed Alicia winking, giggling at her red face.  
"We've got two _unbeatable _Beaters."  
"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush, looking at the girls red faces with odd glints in their eyes that made Alice swallow nervously.  
"And we've got a Seeker who has _never failed to win us a match_!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Alice with a kind of furious pride, which made her flush.

"And me," he added as an afterthought.  
"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George.  
"Spanking good Keeper," said Fred.  
"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Alice joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing..."

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic. "Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.  
"We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina.  
"Definitely," said Alice.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Alice's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

Alice returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?" she asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed Alice through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Alice threw herself into a chair beside Ron, her high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read her mind.

"Alice, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Alice. The next one might not be for ages —"

"_Ron_!" said Hermione. "Alice's supposed to stay in _school _—"  
"She can't be the only third year left behind," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Alice —" "Yeah, as if they'd let me out of the castle after what happened this summer!" said Alice, frustrated.  
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment Crookshanks leapt lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth. Alice frowned at the cat, it seemed to be targeting Ron, but maybe she was imagining things.  
"Does he have to eat that in front of us?" said Ron, scowling.  
"Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?" said Hermione. Crookshanks; slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on Ron. Nope, definitely hates Ron, Alice thought to herself.

"Just keep him over there, that's all," said Ron irritably, turning back to his star chart. "I've got Scabbers asleep in my bag."

Alice yawned. She really wanted to go to bed, but she still had her own star chart to complete. She pulled her bag toward him, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and started work.

"You can copy mine, if you like," said Ron, labeling his last star with a flourish and shoving the chart toward Alice.

Hermione, who disapproved of copying, pursed her lips but didn't say anything. Crookshanks was still staring unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his bushy tail. Then, without warning, he pounced.

"Oi!" Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep inside it and began tearing ferociously. "GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!"

Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing.

"Ron, don't hurt him!" squealed Hermione; the whole common room was watching; Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top —

"CATCH THAT CAT!" Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified Scabbers.

George Weasley made a lunge for Crookshanks but missed; Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a halt, crouched low on his bandy legs, and started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw.

Ron and Hermione hurried over; Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail.

"Look at him!" he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. "He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!"

"Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!" said Hermione, her voice shaking. "All cats chase rats, Ron!"

"There's something funny about that animal!" said Ron, who was trying to persuade a frantically wiggling Scabbers back into his pocket. "It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!"

"Oh, what rubbish," said Hermione impatiently. "Crookshanks could _smell _him, Ron, how else d'you think —"

"That cat's got it in for Scabbers!" said Ron, ignoring the people around him, who were starting to giggle. "And Scabbers was here first, _and _he's ill!"

Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Alice glared at Hermione and the crowd surrounding him. Hermione bristled under her stare.

"All cats chase rats, it's not _my _fault Ron ca-" Alice cut her off,  
"Do you see any other cats chasing Scabbers? You aren't the only person with a pet cat, Mione! Dean's cat Grey never chases Scabbers! I know you hate to be wrong, but you _are_! Familiars _know_ not to attack other familiars!"

"Of course you would side with _him_!" Hermione snarled, stalking forward, "He's your favorite, Ron's your _best_ friend!"  
Alice stood still, shocked. Did Mione really think that? A burning feeling on her right cheek interrupted her thoughts, and Alice looked at Hermione's still raised arm in shock. Alice felt her arm move up to hold the cheek, and her eyes begin to water as Hermione stormed up the girls staircase, leaving Alice standing there in the silent common room.


	10. Chapter 10

Ron was still in a bad mood with Hermione next day. He barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Alice, and Hermione were working together on the same Puffapod. Alice had made sure that Ron was separating herself and Hermione, which meant the lesson was doubly as silent, and uncomfortable.

"How's Scabbers?" Hermione asked timidly as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail. Alice wondered how Professor Sprout would react if she threw some at Malfoy... Maybe she would only get a weeks detentions? Alice was silently debating with herself when Ron replied angrily,

"He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking," missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" cried Professor Sprout as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.

They had Transfiguration next. Alice joined the line outside the class wondering what she should do about Hermione. She was distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line.

Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" said Hermione anxiously as she, Alice, and Ron went to join the group.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh," said Hermione, "I'm sorry, Lavender."  
"I should have known!" said Lavender tragically. "You know what day it is?"  
"Er —"  
"The sixteenth of October! 'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!"  
The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, "You — you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"  
"Well, not necessarily by a _fox_," said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes,

"but I was _obviously _dreading him dying, wasn't I?" "Oh," said Hermione. She paused again. Then — "Was Binky an _old _rabbit?"

"N — no!" sobbed Lavender. "H — he was only a baby!" Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender's shoulders.  
"But then, why would you dread him dying?" said Hermione. Parvati glared at her.

"Well, look at it logically," said Hermione, turning to the rest of the group. "I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today —" Lavender wailed loudly. "– and she _can't _have been dreading it, because it's come as a real shock —"

"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," said Ron loudly, "she doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."

Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Hermione and Ron were looking daggers at each other, and when they got into class, they seated themselves on either side of Alice, who desperately searched for another open seat, and didn't talk to each other for the whole class.

Alice still hadn't decided what she was going to do about Hermione when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.

"One moment, please!" she called as the class made to leave. "As you're all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville put up his hand.  
"Please, Professor, I — I think I've lost —"  
"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave." "Ask her now," Ron hissed at Alice.  
"Oh. but —" Hermione began.  
"Go for it, Alice," said Ron stubbornly.

Alice glared at Ron in annoyance, but decided to take advantage of her freedom from the two for some much-needed advice. She waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Yes, Potter?" Alice took a deep breath.  
"Professor, I need some advice..." she said.  
Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at her but didn't say anything.  
"So — er — if you were friends with two people who argue a lot, and one of them said that they felt less important, what would you do? If they said you always took the other person's side?"  
Professor McGonagall's eyes pierced Alice, who uncomfortably twirled one foot, fighting her instincts to run.

"Well, I imagine I would ask myself whether it was true.," she said. "A person could do something like that, without realizing it, or how it makes others feel"

"But — Professor, say that it's not true— you know, that the person's wrong, and they said and did some really — really hurtful - Hurtful stuff" Alice said, while nervously looking at Hermione waiting at the door, trying to hide her disproval. "What then?"

"Perhaps this conversation should be taken somewhere more private, no?" said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. "I do believe you have Professor Lupin next, correct?" Alice nodded uncertainly. "I believe you are reviewing the weeks work, so you won't be missing much if you join me in my office instead. Follow me." She swept towards the door, giving Alice a look clearly telling her to follow.

Alice hurried down the hall, one of Professor McGonagall's steps covered as much space as three of her own. Alice was barely keeping up, but wouldn't say anything, afraid of the Professor becoming annoyed and sending her away. The tall professor led Alice down the hall, up three floors, and behind a tapestry, which led to the same corridor as the portrait of the Fat Lady. Alice was confused, weren't the gryffindor common room, and three empty classrooms the only things on this floor? Professor McGonagall looked at Alice's confused face, and smiled slightly.

"I can see you are confused, yes Miss. Potter? Is it so surprising that my own office should be so near to My Lions? How did you think I always know when to intervene with the parties? Certainly not magical alarms, with those Weasley Twins around." McGonagall said, before scratching a portrait of a lioness and her cubs under the chin. Alice laughed lightly at the portrait, understanding the significance with what the Professor had called the Gryffindors.

"Well, inside, Miss. Potter, don't want anyone discovering my secret, do we? I so enjoy the confused looks of the twins faces every time I interrupt one of their parties. Alice followed her into the entrance room, and disguised her shock.

"Your rooms are very nice, Professor" she said uncertainly, and was shocked when McGonagall chuckled.

"It's alright I know the decorations can be rather shocking at first" Alice smiled, and looked around, amazed. The walls were a pale beige, the floor covered in a thick green carpet, and every wall was covered in pictures of students. It was clear that at one time there had been house portraits done, and each was dated with the year. Alice gasped, hand covering her mouth when she saw one picture, containing 5 boys, and 4 girls. Inside the frame, making faces at the camera were none other than her father, what appeared to be a young Mr. Moony, a ruggedly handsome man she recognized from her photo album, and a small portly boy with pale eyes. There was also a tall gangly looking boy with messy brown hair, and Neville's bright blue eyes. He stood with his arm around a short brunette's waist. Alice realized that they must be Neville's parents, the similarities were too clear for them not to be. Next to Neville's mom, all smiling widely were three tall girls, one with hair so pale it looked white, another with curly brown hair, and finally-

"Mum..." Alice whispered, hand reaching out to trace the figure of the laughing redhead.

"She was a brilliant student, your mother" Alice jumped at Mcgonagall's voice, "your father too, though he used his talents in less..._scholarly_ pursuits."

Alice turned her head, and looked curiously up at her teacher.

"You knew my parents?" She asked, wondering how many others there were who knew them, but never shared their memories.

"Oh yes, the entire staff did, though Severus-Professor Snape to you-as classmates. They were such delightful people. Truly talented. Your mother had a way of seeming to feel the magic. Of course, its impossible to truly _feel_ magic, but if anyone could, it was her." The professor seemed to be lost in memories, and Alice was uncertain whether to interrupt her or not.

"Who are they" she pointed out the two boys she recognized "I feel like I know them..." Her fingers lingered on the image of the laughing boy with black hair.

"It's like I knew them once, and loved them. I feel things for them, but I know I have never met them... have I?" she asked herself, thinking out loud. Her fingers moved to the short boy. "Dislike, fear, mistrust, was he a bad man? Skulls, and a snake on an arm..." Alice forgot her teachers presence as she thought out loud. Her fingers moved back to the laughing boy.

"Trust, warmth, comfort, _love_-" her voice cracked "so much love, it _aches_. He's safety, i remember this smell, cigar smoke, wet dog, the outdoors, a sharp smell, sort of like whiskey, but smokier... and something else. Like home. Why, though, I don't understand..." Alice broke off as she remembered where she was, and blushed heavily.

"Sorry, Professor, I don't know what came over me..." She let the sentence fade, and looked up at her teacher. She was surprised to see her sitting at her desk, looking shocked, face ashen, lips trembling.

"Professor? Are you alright?" Alice asked, stepping forward nervously.

Professor McGonagall seemed to come back to herself. Her eyes zeroed in on Alice, giving her the feeling of one being x-rayed.

"Those men were friends of your parents, and around you quite often before- Well, they were lost to the war. It is...painful to remember. I am sorry, but perhaps we could continue this conversation another day. I am not quite myself, it seems." with that Alice found herself being practically chased from the room, into the seventh floor corridor.

"Well, that was bloody weird" she muttered, turning towards the common room. Alice had no idea how much time had passed while she was looking at the pictures on McGonagall's wall, but it seemed like quite a bit.

The common room was filled with people, making it clear that classes had ended for the day. Alice saw Ron and Hermione in their usual place by the fire, and immediately walked back out the portrait.

"What was the point of going in, if you were just going to leave?" the Fat Lady squawked after her. Alice ignored her, walking quickly down the hall. She didn't want to deal with the questions from Ron, or the looks from Hermione. She still felt too... off-balance to deal with that. Alice was so consumed by her thoughts, she almost didn't notice Padfoot joining her on the first staircase.

"Hey Pads, where've you been lately? Aren't you supposed to stick around me?" she asked, crouching down to scratch behind his ears where he liked. Padfoot's tail wagged, and he gave a soft bark as he pressed closer to her hand. She giggled, and sat down on one of the steps, throwing her arms around his furry head.

"I've missed you Padfoot... Please don't disappear so much, okay? I worry..." Alice let her voice trail off, and buried her head in Padfoot's thick black fur. Suddenly, Alice remembered McGonagall's office, and the picture of a young Sirius Black. She wondered if this was what his hair felt like, as she twined her hands in Padfoot's fur.

"Can I tell you something, Pads? Anyone else would think i was crazy, but _you_ wont, will you Pads?" she pulled back at Pads yip of agreement, and looked around. The staircase they were on had floated out to the middle of the air, and from what she could see, no-one was around. Padfoot's head butted her hand, and she looked back down at him.

"Sorry, Pads, i had to check if anyone was around-Don't look at me like that!" Padfoot had looked around them, then looked back at hers, his lips pulled back in a canine grin. "Anyways," Alice looked imperiously down at Padfoot, before grinning, "I found out abut Sirius Black today." Padfoot stiffened at the name. "Apparently he was best friends with my dad while they were at school." Padfoot whimpered, and Alice hugged him, before continuing. "I just don't get it, though. It doesn't seem to match up. I know that they had to have evidence to convict him, because otherwise he wouldn't be in jail. But, i just cant seem to believe it!" Padfoots head snapped up at her, and Alice continued "In all the pictures, the stories, he seemed to loyal! The only thing he had against him was-well, nothing!" Alice frowned again, then felt herself being jolted to the side, as the staircase slid into place at a landing. Padfoot bolted towards the landing, and Alice quickly followed him, confused.

Alice was out of breath by the time Padfoot slowed down, and was quite surprised to find herself outside the closed double doors of the Hogwarts library. She could have sworn the library was on the third floor, and last thing she knew she had been chasing Padfoot around the fifth.

"What is wrong, Pads?"She asked, seeing the black dog whine and paw at the doors. Padfoot looked at the door, then her, then the door again, and continued scratching at it. Alice was confused; what did he want?

She walked over to the doors, and wondered if he smelt someone inside. Alice turned the knob, but before she could do anything else, Padfoot had bolted inside.

The next morning, Alice was woken by the sound of a door opening and closing. She barely restrained herself from jumping up, and instead felt around for her glasses, before opening her eyes. She was in a dimly lit corner laying on top of her school robes, a large book open as her pillow. Everything came back to her, and Alice almost shouted in shock. She had found Padfoot in the law section of the library, among a few other things. Alice looked back at the book she was laying on, to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. But there it was,  
_Sirius Black, 21, was arrested in the muggle town of _. He was accused of the murder of 12 muggles, and one Peter Pettigrew, alongside working alongside He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, even handing him the Potters. Black immediately placed in Azkaban Prison, Where he has remained the past 6 years..._

There was nothing about a trial. Even all the books surrounding her held no information about Black's trial, or lack thereof. Alice looked to her right, and saw Padfoot looking back at her. She lifted one hand to her lips, and began quietly replacing the books on their shelves, except the one still open, which she slid into her bag.


	11. Chapter 11

Professor Flitwick was teaching them color charms, but Alice wasn't listening. Her mind was a wave of motion caught between excitement and sorrow. She was anxious to show Mr. Moony what she had found. Yet at the same time, Alice felt a heavy weight settle into her chest. How was it no-one noticed her disappearing for twelve hours? Ron, at least, should have been _slightly_ curious, even Lavender normally noticed these things. Yet no-one had. _Was she really so insignificant as to not be missed? Were the Dursleys right?_ The sound of the door shutting pulled Alice from her thoughts, but the realization that no-one had waited for her, not even the Professor, brought them back. Alice bitterly gathered her books, and looked around to realize that even Padfoot hadn't waited for her. Her heart dropped. _Does no-one want me here?_ Her eyes remained dry, the result of 12 years with the Dursleys. Inside, Alice wondered if anyone ever really wanted to be _her_ friend, not just The-Girl-Who-Lived's. She was never anyone's first choice, not even Fred and George, or Ron, or Hermione. Thinking of Hermione hurt, Alice remembered the sting of her friends hand, and the way she had looked at her. A burning sensation broke her out of these thoughts, and Alice realized her hands had clenched so tightly, her nails broke the skin. Almost immediately, Alice felt herself calm down, and muttering a quick healing spell, continued walking to the Great Hall for Lunch.

"What did McGonagall have to say yesterday?" Ron asked, before Alice had finished sitting.

"Hi to you too, Ron" she snapped, then feeling guilty "Sorry, she said no, and that she had thought I would know better than to ask."

Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Alice; and she had to endure everyone in the hall talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade. Yes, she understood why she wasn't allowed to go, but it was still hard to hear everyone talking about yet another thing she wouldn't be allowed to experience.

"There's always the feast," said Ron, in an effort to cheer Alice up. "You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening."

"Yeah," said Alice gloomily, "great."

The feast was always good, but Alice never enjoyed it. It would taste a lot better if she wasn't remembering the parents she had lost, the family she would never have. Coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else might have at least made it bearable, but now she would be left alone in the school with her thoughts. Nothing anyone said made her feel any better. Dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Vernon's signature on the form, but as Alice wouldn't be allowed even if her form _was_ signed, that was no good. Ron halfheartedly suggested the Invisibility Cloak, but Alice stamped on that one, reminding Ron what Dumbledore had told them about the Dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what were possibly the least helpful words of comfort.

"They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you, Alice, it's not all it's cracked up to be," he said seriously. "All right, the sweetshop's rather good, and Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really, Alice, apart from that, you're not missing anything."

On Halloween morning, Alice awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing her best to act normally.

"We'll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes," said Ron.

"Don't worry about me," said Alice, in what she hoped was an, offhand voice, "I'll see you at the feast. Have a good time."

She accompanied him to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn't be going.

"Staying here, Potter?" shouted Malfoy, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. "Scared of passing the Dementors?"

Alice ignored him and, seeing Ron walking alongside Hermione, made her solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, to the Astronomy Tower.

Alice wandered dispiritedly toward the tower, but halfway there she changed her mind; she didn't have her cloak. She turned around and came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.

"What are you doing?" Filch snarled suspiciously. "Nothing," said Alice truthfully.

"Nothing!" spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story! Sneaking around on your own — why aren't you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?"

Alice shrugged.

"Well, get back to your common room where you belong!" snapped Filch, and he stood glaring until Alice had passed out of sight.

But Alice didn't go back to the common room; she climbed a staircase, thinking vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig, and was walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, "Alice?"

Alice doubled back to see who had spoken and met Mr. Moony, looking around his office door.

"What are you doing?" said Mr. Moony, though in a very different voice from Filch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade," said Alice, in a would-be casual voice, ignoring the betrayal she had felt at seeing Ron happily greeting Hermione, when he had acted as angry at her as Alice pretended to be.

"Ah," said Mr. Moony. He considered Alice for a moment. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" said Alice.

She followed Mr. Moony into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

"Water demon," said Mr. Moony, surveying the Grindylow thoughtfully. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."

The Grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.  
"Cup of tea?" Mr. Moony said, looking around for his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."  
"All right," said Alice, still uncertain of him after the encounter with Hagrid.  
Mr. Moony tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.  
"Sit down," said Mr. Moony, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid — but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?"  
Alice looked at him. Mr. Moony's eyes were twinkling. "How did you know about that?" Alice asked.

"Professor McGonagall told me," said Mr. Moony, passing Alice a chipped mug of tea. "You're not worried, are you?"

"No," said Alice.

She thought for a moment of telling Mr. Moony about her and Hermione's problems, and her recent darker thoughts, but decided not to. She didn't want Mr. Moony to think she was weak, especially since he already seemed to think she couldn't cope with a Boggart.

Something of Alice's thoughts seemed to have shown on her face, or perhaps he just knew her too well after summer, because Mr. Moony said, "Anything worrying you, Alice?"

She drank a bit of tea and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at her. "Yes," she said suddenly changing her mind, putting her tea down on Mr. Moony's desk. "You know that day we fought the Boggart?" Alice cursed her own weakness, but didn't correct herself.

"Yes," said Mr. Moony slowly.  
"Why didn't you let me fight it?" said Alice, abruptly.  
Mr. Moony raised his eyebrows.  
"I would have thought that was obvious, Alice," he said, sounding surprised.  
Alice, didn't understand. "Why?" she said again.  
"Well," said Mr. Moony, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."  
Alice stared. Not only was this the last answer she'd expected, but Mr. Moony had said Voldemort's name. The only person Alice had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from herself) was Professor Dumbledore.

"Clearly, I was wrong," said Mr. Moony, still frowning at Alice. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."

"I didn't think of Voldemort," said Alice honestly. "I — I remembered those Dementors."

"I see," said Mr. Moony thoughtfully. "Well, well...I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Alice's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is — fear. Very wise, Alice."

Alice didn't know what to say to that, so she drank some more tea.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?" said Mr. Moony shrewdly.

"Well...yes, I mean, " said Alice. She suddenly felt embarassed. "Mr. Mo-Professor, you know the Dementors —"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door.  
"Come in," called Mr. Moony.  
The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Alice, his black eyes narrowing.  
"Ah, Severus," said Mr. Moony, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"  
Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Alice and Mr. Moony.  
"I was just showing Alice my Grindylow," said Mr. Moony pleasantly, pointing at the tank. "Fascinating," said Snape, without looking at it. "You should drink that directly, Lupin."  
"Yes, Yes, I will," said Mr. Moony.  
"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued. "If you need more."  
"I should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."  
"Not at all," said Snape, but there was a look in his eye Alice didn't like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.  
Alice looked curiously at the goblet. Mr. Moony smiled.  
"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted my potion for me," he said. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

"Why —?" Alice began. Mr. Moony looked at her and answered the unfinished question.

"I've been feeling a bit off-color," he said. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it."

Professor Mr. Moony took another sip and Alice realized what potion it was. _Wolfsbane_, Alice thought to herself. She wondered why Mr. Moony was lying to her before she realized that he didn't know that she knew. Maybe he would rather she didn't know. What if he didn't trust her anymore? Alice remembered the betrayed look in his eyes that night in McGonagall's office, and chocked down a sob.

"Do you not trust me?" she blurted out.  
"What?" said Mr. Moony, looking quite shocked as he took another gulp of potion.  
"Do you —" Alice hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, "Do you not trust me?"  
Mr. Moony drained the goblet and pulled a face.  
"I-Why do you ask?" he questioned, cautiously. "Never mind. It's nothing" _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ Alice thought, embarrassed. "I told Neville I'd meet him in the library. See you at the feast later." said Alice, putting down her empty teacup. The empty goblet was still smoking.


End file.
